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Sciences 
Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  145«0 

(71«)t73-4»03 


*£•«* 


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ii|ipii^j|i!)!;iliJ,|W!i'i)ilti'ii'li«t'W''»»i|»|ii'SWI 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


s 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  Images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


D 
D 


n 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagde 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pelliculde 


Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


D 


Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


□    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relid  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  inte  ior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serr6e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  torsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6x6  filmdes. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl6mentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  moilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  dtd  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vte  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mdthode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 


I      I   Coloured  pages/ 


□ 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagdes 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  pellicul^es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxe( 
Pages  ddcolor^es,  tachetdes  ou  piqudes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ddtachdes 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  indgale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materia 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 


I  I  Pages  damaged/ 

p~|  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

I  I  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

I  I  Pages  detached/ 

I  I  Showthrough/ 

I  I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I  I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  returned  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6x6  filmdes  6  nouveau  de  faqon  6 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  U\m6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu6  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

m 

1 

12X 

16X 

20X 

^ 

28X 

32X 

re 

Stalls 
)s  du 
nodifier 
}r  une 
ilmage 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  filmd  fut  reproduit  grdce  d  la 
gdn6rosit6  de: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6x6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  de  l'exemplaire  filmd,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


es 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  --^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  film6s  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'iilustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film6&  en  commengant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'iilustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
film6s  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrent». 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nScessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


errata 
1  to 


B  pelure, 
;on  d 


1 

2 

3 

32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

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BT 


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nail,  rortfflji  rrtpaid,  U  tnt  fart 
■uuptc/Un  prie4, 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


BT 


V 

ANNA  T.  8ADLIER. 


p- 


NE\,-  YORK: 

HARPER  &   BROTHERS,   PUDLISIIERg, 

FRAXKLIN   gQDARS. 

1878. 

7^ 


^  '^mBmM^^m^s^msmA 


£,\^t> 


BBUnd  Mcordlni  to  Act  of  Con«««,  In  the  ye«  1W9, 1'T 

llAumi  li  liiioTimis, 
In  iho  Ofllc  of  the  UbruUu.  of  Congr«..  .1  W«UI.mH«.. 


t 


1^ 


««,  to  tlw  jrt«  IW».  hJ 
riiiius, 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIli. 


CHAin'KU  I. 


"  Illm  (U(l«t  thou  crndlo  on  the  dizzy  utoop 
Where  romul  his  hoiul  llio  volley'd  llKhlnlnsf*  flang, 
And  tlie  Umd  winds  thiit  round  hl«  pillow  rung 
Woo'd  the  Btorn  Infnnt  to  the  nrmii  of  sleep ; 
Or  on  thy  highest  peak 
Sonted  the  foiirless  boy,  nnd  bndo  hlni  hiok 
Where,  far  below,  the  wcather-bentcn  nUd 
On  the  KUlf  bottom  of  the  ocean  slrook." 

li.  KiiiKE  VVmiti. 

Tin?  Island  of  Foula  is  tlio  most  noithor- 
ly  of  tliiit  |,'r(nip  fiimiliinly  known  us  tlia 
ShetliindH.  lt«  bold,  rocky  shore  stretclics 
out  for  Monio  di«tiiiice  into  the  sea,  and  rises 
to  a  groat  height  above  the  level  of  the  wa- 
ter. The  island  is  not  an  attractive  spot ; 
far  to  the  inland  it  is  rugged  and  sandy,  in- 
terspersed hero  and  there  with  spaiso  clus- 
ters of  iniinntniu-.aRh  and  elm  and  birch. 
The  buildings  are,  for  the  most  part,  low 


TF 


8  SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIIl. 

aud  rair.bliiiR.  some  of  tbom  ilating  back  for 
centuries.  Many  years  a>;o  tbo  oldest  was, 
however,  a  roauorial  dwelling,  inbabited  by 
a  family  clainnng  tbeir  descent  in  tbe  direct 
line  fiom  Ospak,  the  Viking,  who  married  an 
Irish  wife,  and  settled  down  in  a  nide  abode, 
-"•bich  had  since  been  enlarged  an<l  improved 
acoording  to  tbe  needs  or  tastes  of  successive 
descendants. 

Tbe  worthy  proprietor,  who  had  fallen 
heir  to  the  traditional  honors  of  the  family, 
OB  well  as  to  the  square,  substantial  build- 
ing we  have  mentioned,  resembled  bis  Norse 
ancestors  iu  little  but  tbe  name,  which  had 
been  handed  down,  an  unstained  legacy,  from 
father  to  son.  The  old  man  could  tell  a 
good  story  and  sing  a  good  song,  and  drink 
his  glass  of  punch  like  any  leal  old  Scottish 
gentleman  who  had  fought  in  the  wars  of 
tbe  Pretender,  and  still  raised  his  hat  and 
drank  his  toasts  to  the  memory  of  good 
King  James.  But  tbe  Norse  blood  had  not 
passed  entirely  out  of  the  fiimily.  Ospak 
had  a  son,  who  was  one  day  to  inherit  the 
rather  empty  title  of  "Udaller,"  and  enter 
into  possession  of  the  manor  aud  adjacent 
lands.  Eric  was  physically  a  worthy  de- 
scendant of  the  white-haired  race  who  had 
conquered  the  island  and  established  them- 


AND  MAin. 

bem  ilatiug  back  for 
ago  tbo  oldest  was, 
celling,  iubabited  by 
(lesceut  in  tbe  direct 
iing,  who  married  an 
own  in  a  rnde  abode, 
larged  and  iraproved 
r  tastes  of  snccessivo 

tor,  who  bad  fallen 
lonors  of  tbe  family, 
re,  substantial  build- 
,  resembled  bis  Norse 
tbe  name,  wbicb  bad 
ustained  legacy,  from 
Id  man  conld  tell  a 
good  song,  and  drink 
any  leal  old  Scottish 
ingiit  in  tbe  wars  of 
II  raised  bis  bat  and 
tbe  memory  of  good 
Norse  blood  bad  not 
■  tbe  family.  Ospak 
le  day  to  inherit  the 
"Udaller,"  and  enter 
manor  and  adjacent 
sically  a  worthy  de- 
•baired  race  who  had 
md  established  thcra- 


6EVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR.  9 

selves  there  as  masters.     Ho  was  tall  and 
straight,  strong  and  lithe  of  limb,  fair-hair- 
ed and  blne-oyed,  with  a  certain  air  of  com- 
mand which  seemed  natural  to  him.     He 
was  a  good  oarsman  and  a  keen  sportsman. 
Ho  rode  the  most  fiery  horse  with  the  easi- 
est grace  imaginable,  and  managed  a  boat 
on  tlie  stormiest  sea  with  the  confidence  of 
an  old  mariner.     Ho  was  handsome— band- 
some,  his  old  nurse  said,  as  Olaf  Kyrre,  whose 
beauty  had  passed  into  tradition,  and  strong 
and  brave  as  Ospak  the  Mighty,  who  landed 
with  tbe  first  Locblanns  on  that  rocky  shore. 
On  the  island  Eric  was  a  sort  of  ruler ; 
none  questioned  his  right   to   a  supremo 
authority,  which  the  proud,  impetuous  boy 
never  abused.     He  ruled  over  the  simple 
islanders  with  a  gentle,  generous  sway  that 
won  their  hearts,  while  tbe  strong  dash  of 
the  fiery  Norse  blood  connnanded  their  obe- 
dience.   And  so  bis  youth  was  passed,  the 
spoiled  darling  of  bis  parents,  the  idol  and 
ruler  of  the  fishermen  whoso  days  were 
spent  out  upon  the  restless  ocean.    He  was 
full  of  romance ;  it  was  part  of  bis  life ;  it 
hatl  come  to  him  by  inheritance;  it  had 
been  fostered  by  circumstances.    Ho  passed 
most  of  his  time  down  among  the  rocks,  or 
out  iu  Mb  little  boat. 


10 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


One  evening  the  weather  xvas  cloudy  and 
danip.  The  sky  sbowod  hero  and  there  a 
sprinkling  of  blue  throngh  its  dnlness ;  the 
sea  had  caught  an  nnpromising  grayness 
from  its  sister-element;  the  wind  was  blow- 
ing in  short,  sharp  little  gales,  sotting  the 
fishing-boats  at  anchor  out  upon  the  water 
rocking  and  dancing.  It  blew  the  sand 
in  curious  eddies  up  and  down  among  the 
rocks,  and  stirred  the  short,  scant  grass  that 
covered  the  shore  to  the  edge  of  tlio  cliflf. 

Eric  was  standing  with  one  tirni  foot  upon 
the  level  rock,  and  the  other  resting  upon  a 
higher  point  of  the  cliff;  the  wind  was  mak- 
ing free  with  his  hair,  tossing  it  into  the 
most  becoming  disorder,  till  ho  resolutely 
pulled  down  the  cap  that  was  resting  care- 
lessly on  the  back  of  his  head ;  he  wore  a 
coarse  fishing-suit,  and  a  silk  liandkerchief 
loosely  knotted  around  his  neck.  He  was 
looking  down  into  the  water  with  a  sort  of 
intensity,  and  seemed  to  watcli  anxiously 
the  movements  of  a  little  boat  that  was  mak- 
ing its  way  with  some  difiiiculty  to  the  shore. 
Once  reached  there,  the  young  flsherTian, 
who  was  its  sole  occupant,  leaped  lightly 
out,  made  it  fast,  and  turned  to  ascend  the 

cliff. 

"  Eyviud,"  cried  Eric,  "  you  are  late.    I 


AND  MAIR. 

tlier  was  cloudy  ami 
)d  hero  and  tbere  a 
iigli  its  dulness ;  tbo 
ipi'omising  graynoss 

tbo  wind  was  blow- 
le  gales,  sotting  tbe 

out  upon  tbo  water 
It  blew  tbe  sand 
lid  down  among  the 
lort,  scant  grass  that 
B  edge  of  tl.'o  cliff, 
tb  one  firm  foot  upon 
otbcr  resting  npon  a 
■;  tbo  wind  was  niak- 
,  tossing  it  into  tbe 
er,  till  bo  resolutely 
liat  was  resting  care- 
bis  bead ;  bo  wore  a 

a  silk  handkcrcbief 
L  bis  neck,  lie  was 
water  with  a  sort  of 

to  watch  anxiously 
lo  boat  that  was  mak- 
lifflculty  to  tbo  sbore. 
he  young  fisber-nan, 
npaut,  leaped  lightly 
turned  to  ascend  tbo 

ic,  "  you  aro  late.    I 


SEVEN  TEARS  AND  MAIR. 


11 


have  been  watching  for  your  coming.  The 
sea  is  rough." 

"  Rougb  and  wild,"  answered  the  lad, 
with  a  peculiar  solenniity  not  out  of  keep- 
ing with  bis  appearance,  "and  tbere  will  bo 
many  a  wreck  before  tbo  dawn." 

"Away  with  such  gloomy  thoughts,  Ey- 
vind !"  said  Eric.  "  Your  voice  is  enough  to 
make  one  shiver." 

Eyviud  turned  toward  tbo  sea,  and  said 
no  more ;  both  looked  anxiously  out  upon 
tbo  main.  Tbo  blue  had  faded  utterly  out 
of  tbo  sky,  tbo  clouds  had  taken  shape,  and 
were  settling,  heavy  and  lowering,  to  tbo 
north-west.  Gleams  of  pale  light  showed 
from  beneath  their  daik  masses,  casting  a 
lurid  brightness  on  tbo  water;  the  wind 
was  blowing  up  fresh  and  brisk;  tbo  sea 
moaned  ominously;  the  rocks  seemed  gray- 
er and  drearier  than  over,  and  Eric  turned 
away  with  a  little  movement  of  impatience. 
Eyvind  still  gazed  and  gazed,  seeming  to 
take  a  strange  delight  iu  the  gloom  of  the 
coming  storm.  In  appearance  bo  was  a 
striking  contrast  to  Eric.  Ho  was  imlo  and 
swarthy;  bis  long  hair  was  straight  and 
coarse  as  that  of  an  Indian ;  bis  eyes  were 
black,  and  had  a  certain  weird  soleumity  of 
expression. 


12 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


Truth  to  toll,  few  of  tlio  islanders  wonld 
Imvo  stood  in  Eric's  place  at  sucli  an  lionr 
and  in  sncli  a  spot  with  Eyvind  of  the  lint. 
Strange  tilings  were  whispered  of  the  lad. 
Ho  dwelt  in  a  lonely  hut, in  the  bleakest  and 
dreariest  corner  of  the  island,  whore  tho 
wild  waves  on  stormy  nights  rose  within  a 
short  distance  of  tho  door,  and  wailed  with 
almost  human  passion,  in  tones  of  hnmau 
rage  and  despair.  His  only  companion  was 
his  mother,  a  half-crazed  creature,  feared  by 
the  more  ignorant  as  a  witch,  and  by  tho 
better  informed  on  account  of  her  inflruiity. 
She  never  loft  tho  hut,  nor  was  Rcan  by  any 
cue.  Sho  was  dark  and  small,  with  some- 
thing of  tho  same  swarthy  color  as  her  son, 
and  a  most  forbidding  cast  of  countenance. 
She  kept  the  house  with  scrupulous  neat- 
ness, and,  except  when  the  wild  moods  were 
ou  her,  provided  the  frugal  fare  for  her  sou 
and  herself  When  tho  fit  was  on  her,  she 
sat  on  a  low  hassock  by  tho  fire,  and  mutter- 
ed to  hei-sclf  in  a  foreign  tongue,  or  crooned 
old  ballads  that  had  been  sung  i)erhap8  in 
her  youth  at  some  distant  fireside.  Her 
coming  to  the  island,  too,  was  somewhat 
mysterious.  Sho  had  been  saved  from  a 
wreck,  clutching  an  infant  iu  her  arms. 
Whether  sho  had  lost  her  reason  from  the 


f 

r 

c 

s 

V 

o 
i\ 
fi 
f( 
c 

ll 

ii 
b 
E 
w 

h 

si 
fi 
b< 
!1 
■w 
ie 

e< 
P' 

cl 
E 


I  AND  MAIR. 

■  tbe  islaiiilers  would 
lace  at  mich  nn  liour 
;h  Eyviiid  of  the  hut. 
yhispcred  of  tlio  lad. 
jt,in  the  bleakest  and 
le   islaud,  whore  tbo 

nights  rose  within  » 
loor,  and  wailed  with 
,  ill  tones  of  human 
i  only  companion  was 
ed  creature,  feared  by 

a  witch,  and  by  tho 
ionnt  of  her  infirinity. 
,  nor  was  seen  by  any 
ud  small,  with  some- 
rthy  color  as  hor  son, 
:  cast  of  countenance, 
vith  scrupulous  neat- 
i  the  wild  moods  were 
rugal  faro  for  her  sou 
10  fit  was  on  her,  she 
y  tho  fire,  and  mutter- 
gn  tongue,  or  crooned 
boon  sung  i)erhaps  in 
listaut  fireside.  Her 
[1,  too,  was  somewhat 
I  been  saved  from  a 

infant  iu  her  arms. 
t;  her  reason  from  the 


8EVKX  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


1.3 


. 


fright  occasioned  by  the  shipwreck,  or  had 
previously  become  elemented  from  some  oth- 
er cause,  none  could  tell.    The  people  at  first 
sought  to  coax    her    away   from   the   hnt 
■whitlier  slio  liad  been  brought  on  the  night 
of  her  arrival,  but  tlieir  persuasions  were  of 
no  avail :  tliere  slie  reinaincd.     Tliey  cared 
for  tho  cliild  till  ho  became  of  an  age  to  care 
for  himself.     Tlicn   they   abandoned  both 
child  and  mother.     In  course  of  time  tho 
but  was  shunned  as  an  accursed  spot,  its 
inmates  regarded  a«  having  connection  with 
beings  of  another  world,  and  tho  child  called 
Eyvind,  in  memory  of  tho  mighty  sorcerer 
w  ho  once,  according  to  tho  Norwegian  annals, 
had  been  a  power  and  a  terror  on  the  earth. 
Eric  alone,  despising  tho  popular  super- 
stition, and  pitying  tho  objects  of  it,  bad 
formed  a  strange  friemlshii)  with  the  lonely 
boy,  became  tho  link  that  bound  him  to  civ- 
ilized beings,  and  gave  him  some  sympathy 
with  his  fellow-men.     Together  they  stud- 
ied ;  together  they  fished  and  bunted ;  to- 
gether the  greater  portion  of  their  days  were 
spent ;  and  together,  not  unfrequeutly,  they 
passed  tho  long   winter  evenings  by  the 
cheerful  hearth  of  the  Udaller.     Hence  did 
Eyvind  become,  iu  great  measure,  superior 
in  mental  acquirements,  as  well  as  in  mau- 


14 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


ners  and  nppeavanco,  to  tlio  rnilo  fiahermon, 
■who  f'>avcd  and  despised  liiiii ;  hence,  too, 
•was  Eric's  exceeding  popularity  gradually 
diminished  by  his  close  intimacy  with  so 
singular  a  being.  These  evenings  by  tho 
Udallor's  fireside  were  bright  spots  in  Ey- 
viud's  existence ;  Boinotimes  they  were  spent 
in  reading  and  stndyinj*,  but  just  as  often 
in  listening  to  the  old  legends  and  quaint 
Norse  lore,  of  which  Eric's  mother  possessed 
nu  inexhaustible  fund.  This  mother  was 
the  embodiment  of  all  Eric's  ideas  of  tho 
good  and  beautiful ;  from  her  he  had  inher- 
ited his  passionate  admiration  for  tho  fair 
and  lovely  in  nature,  his  love  of  tho  ideal, 
and  tho  poetry  and  romance  thai  lay  bo  deep 
in  his  nature. 

As  tho  young  men  stood  still  a  moment, 
gazing  at  the  ocean  darkened  with  fore- 
shadowings  of  the  coming  storm,  Eric  laid 
his  hand  kindly  on  Eyvind's  shoulder. 

"  Come  home  with  me,  Ey  vind,"  he  said  ; 
"it  will  bo  dismal  enough  at  tho  hut  to- 
night." 

"  Nay," said  Eyviud,  gloomily, "  tho  storm 
is  coming  on ;  my  mother  will  be  bad ;  I  dare 
not  leave  her." 

"  Then  I  must  go,"  said  Eric.  "  Keep  np 
your  heart ;  and  at  dawt  to-morrow,  if  tho 


*> 


}  AND  MAIB. 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


15 


0  tlio  rudo  fishermen, 
ised  liiiu ;  hence,  too, 
poimlarity  gra(Uiivlly 
)80  intimacy  Mith  bo 
leso  oveuiiiKS  ''y  the 
3  briglit  spots  in  Ey- 
itimes  thoy  were  spout 
iiijt,  but  just  as  often 
il  legends  and  quaint 
iiic's  motlior  possessed 
1.  This  mother  was 
,11  Eric's  ideas  of  tho 
rem  her  ho  had  inher- 
Iniiration  for  tho  fair 
his  love  of  tho  ideal, 
tnauco  that  lay  so  deep 

stood  still  a  moment, 

1  darkened  with  fore- 
iming  storm,  Eric  laid 
yvind's  shoulder. 

me,  Eyvind,"  he  said  ; 
luough  at  tho  hut  to- 

1,  gloomily, "  tho  storm 
.her  will  be  bad ;  I  daro 

'  said  Eric.  "  Keep  np 
lawii  to-morrow,  if  tho 


*,} 


weather  bo  fair,  wo  will  get  out  the  boat,  and 
try  our  luck  at  fishing.     Good-night." 

"  Good-night,"  answered  Eyvind,  turning 
again  to  tho  shore,  as  Erie  pursued  his  buoy- 
ant way  homeward,  and  huunued  a  snatch 
of  an  old  Norso  song.  Eyvind  did  not  lin- 
ger long  upon  tho  elitf.  Slowly  and  thought- 
fully he  went  toward  his  homo,  along  tho 
rocks,  foam-whitened,  and  beside  tho  angry 
sea.  As  ho  approached.  Hashes  of  lightning 
were  already  darting  across  tho  hut,  show- 
ing it  distinctly  through  tho  growing  dark- 
ness. A  gleam  of  firelight  cunio  out  from 
tho  open  door.  It  was  the  only  sign  of  com- 
fort or  of  a  Innuau  preseuco  that  tho  place 
attbrded.  As  Eyvind  entered,  his  mother 
was  sitting  on  a  low  stool  staring  into  tho 
fire,  and  muttering  drearily  to  herself  She 
took  no  notice  of  his  entrance,  and  did  not 
raise  her  head,  till  a  violent  gust  of  wind 
shook  tho  hut.  Then,  with  a  cry  of  terror, 
she  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Lo  vent,"  sho  cried,  "  lo  vent,  lo  tcmpfite! 
(^a  mo  fait  pour,  ?a  mo  fait  pour!" 

Eyvind  understood  not  a  word,  but  he 
know  that  tho  wind  and  tho  sound  of  the 
waves  disturbed  her. 

"  It  is  only  tho  wind,"  ho  said,  soothingly, 
"  and  the  sea  moaning  among  the  rocks." 


16 


8BVBK  YEARS  AXD  MAIH. 


She  nislied  over  and  peered  into  bis  face ; 
then,  iiimliing  liiui  uway  with  a  loud  laugh, 
sang, 


"Quelle  est  In  chnrmc  de  In  vie, 
C'est,  rmnour,  c'cet  ramoiir,  c'est 


ramour." 


Changing  suddenly,  sho  sang,  in  a  plaintive 
voice : 

"  O  belle  riviere, 

O  clmrmnnte  nslle, 

O  donee  campanile, 

U  ])ny!i  trniuiiiille 

Loin  dc  voHP,  O  cher  Loire ! 

Mil  vie  est." 

Sho  ended  with  a  low  moan  ;  then  re- 
sumed her  seat,  and  relapsed  into  a  gloomy 
silence.  All  at  once  sho  rose,  and  throwing 
herself  at  Eyvind's  feet,  seemed  as  if  implor- 
ing him.  Sho  spoko,  rapidly  and  vehement- 
ly, in  her  native  French ;  she  gesticulated 
violently;  sho  tore  her  hair;  sho  sobbed, 
till,  as  if  in  despair,  she  sank,  moaning,  on 
the  floor. 

Meanwhile  the  storm  had  burst ;  the  wind 
shook  the  hut  with  such  fury  that  it  threat- 
ened to  hurl  it  from  tlie  cliff;  the  sea  dash- 
ed, howling,  against  tho  rocks,  and  with  a 
wild  roar  the  waves  rnslied  back  vanquish- 
ed, only  to  bo  succeeded  by  other  and  more 


AXD  MAin. 

peered  into  liig  fnce ; 
y  with  a  loud  laugh, 


!  1ft  vie, 

[lour,  c'eat  I'amour." 

I  sang,  ill  a  plaiutivo 


lie, 

jiie, 

le 

Cher  Loire ! 


ow  moan ;  then  re- 
upsod  into  a  gloomy 
B  rose,  and  throwing 
,  Boomed  as  if'iraplor- 
pidly  and  vehoment- 
!h;  sho  gesticulated 
r  hair;  she  sohbed, 
10  sank,  moaning,  on 

had  burst;  the  wind 
li  fury  that  it  threot- 
a  cliff;  the  sea  dosh- 
10  rocl<8,  and  with  a 
slied  back  vaiiquish- 
1  by  other  and  more 


BBVEX  YEAna  AND  MAIR. 


17 


powerful  ones.  Tlio  lightning  flashed  its 
rod  glare  iuto  the  very  centre  of  the  hut, 
and  was  followed  by  peal  on  peal  of  vibrat- 
ing thunder.  Toward  midnight  the  storm 
abated,  and  as  the  elements  grew  calm,  so, 
too,  did  tlie  woman's  troubled  tlioughts.  At 
Inst  slio  fell  into  a  deep,  quiet  sloop,  and  Ey- 
viud,  raining  her  gently,  laid  her  upon  tho 
couch.  When  he  saw  that  her  sleep  was 
likely  to  hist,  ho  went  to  tho  door,  and  looked 
out  upon  tlio  night.  Tlio  clouds  were  dis- 
persed, and  tho  stars  were  peeping  out  hero 
and  tliere,  tlien  hastily  hiding  under  a  cloud, 
as  if  still  half  afraid  of  the  warriug  eh'- 
ments.  The  waves,  too,  no  longer  stirred 
to  madness  by  tho  storm,  beat  against  tho 
shore  with  a  sullen  murmur  as  of  half-for- 
gotten resentment,  and  tho  Wind  had  car- 
ried its  clarion  note  of  deiiauco  far  over  tho 
main.  P.yviud  remained  there  only  a  mo- 
ment, and,  chising  the  door,  retired  to  rest. 

In  Foula  neither  bolts  nor  bars  wore  re- 
quired; and  had  both  been  necessary  on 
every  other  dwelling,  no  one  would  have 
dreamed  of  approaching  tho  deserted  hut, 
or  tho  haunted  cliff  on  which  ii;  stood.  Ey- 
vind  threw  himself  carelessly  on  his  couch, 
with  his  great-coat  only  for  covering.  Tho 
bod  was  hard,  tho  pillow  of  straw,  yet  the 
2 


»4tt%lltf*J 


18 


SEVEN  YEAnS  AMD  MAIR. 


nmonlrtcriiiK  firo  on  tlio  cartli  wns  soon 
cttstiiig  its  (lyiiiK  lij;''*  <»i  !"*<  Hli't'piiiK  fiico; 
it  iiiiulo  glioBtly  hIiikIows  on  tlii)  wuU,  too, 
iiiingling  witli  tlio  li»liiii<j;-tii(;klo  anil  tlio 
iiots,  but  iiiiiieedcd  ami  iiiulisturlM'd,  tlio 
spell  of  sliiiiibnr  liad  fallen  on  tlie  hut,  and 
its  inmates  wero  liappy.  One,  at  least,  was 
far  over  the  oi'cau,  on  tlio  sunny  banks  of 
tbo  Loire.  Life  luid  been  cincl  to  her,  but 
tUo  spirit  at  least  was  free ;  anil  sleep,  like 
a  truco  from  Ood,  brouRht  a  respite,  (luriug 
■which  it  escaped  from  its  prison-houso. 

Meantime  Eric,  coming  in  from  the  chill 
dusk  of  the  evening,  met  with  a  cheery  wel- 
come. The  tiro  beamed  out  its  warm  greet- 
ing; the  Bupper-table  stood  ready,  and  the 
viands  wore  being  brought  in  hot  and  sa- 
vory. His  father  nodded  good-humoredly, 
and  his  mother,  from  her  chair  bosido  the 
hearth,  smiled  a  welcome.  She  was  a  hand- 
some and  stately  dame,  proud  of  her  trosccnt 
from  the  white-haired  race  that  had  landed 
long  ago  with  Olaf  on  the  Irish  coast.  Sho 
was  fair  and  tall,  like  Eric,  and  hold  herself 
straight  and  erect,  though  her  sunnner-timo 
of  middle  ago  was  past.  Her  husband  was 
a  rnddy-comploxioned,  hard-featured  man, 
with  a  world  of  good -humor  shining  out 
from  under  Lis  ehaggy  brows,  and  playing 


KtiO  MAIR. 

10  parMi  wns  soon 
n  li'iH  HUu'piiiK  face  ; 
»'s  on  tli(!  Willi,  too, 
iiig-tii(,'lvlo  ami  tlio 

11  llluliHtlll'lltMl,    tlio 

Icn  on  tliu  liiit,  and 
One,  ill  It'UHt,  wns 
till)  Hiiiiny  banks  of 
en  cniol  to  litT,  lint. 
IVei) ;  mill  sleep,  liko 
;lit  a  rcspito,  diiriug 
H  priHoii-lionso. 
ig  ill  from  tlio  diill 
t  with  !i  clieory  wol- 

oiit  its  warm  greot- 
tooil  icaily,  and  the 
iglit  ill  hot  and  Ha- 
ed  good-hinnoredly, 
ler  chair  hosido  tho 
0.  Sho  was  a  luuul- 
prond  of  her  (Tosccnt 
ace  that  had  landed 
ho  Irish  coast.  Sho 
ric,  and  hold  herself 
gh  hor  snniiuer-timo 
Her  husband  was 
hard-featured  man, 
'liutnor  shining  out 

brows,  aud  playing 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAin.  19 

nronnd  his  expansivo  mouth.  A  worthy, 
good-natured  soul  ho  was,  beloveil  by  hia 
tenants  and  iieigliborH,  content  with  him- 
self and  with  tlii>  world  around  hi  in. 

"  My  boy,"  said  tlio  mother,  "  it  is  n  cheer- 
less evening.  C'oiiio  over  to  the  hearth,  and 
catch  a  littlo  of  this  pleasant  hoat.  You 
must  bo  chilled." 

"  If  I  were,  inother,"  ho  said,  fondly,  "there 
is  warmth  enough  in  your  smilo  to  restore 
me." 

"That  boy  knows  tho  soft  spot  in  tho 
feminine  nature,  and  no  mistake,  good  wife," 
said  tho  Udaller,  chuckling  over  his  joko; 
"ho  is  a  born  llattorer." 

"Tho  wind  is  high  to-niglit,"  said  the 
mother,  still  smiling.  "Did  all  tho  boats 
como  iiiT" 

"  Yes,  mother ;  Ey vind's  was  tho  last,  and 
I  am  late  because  I  waited  to  see  it  onch- 
ored." 

"  You  havo  strange  tastes,  my  son,"  said 
tho  mother,  more  gravely;  "and  strangest 
of  all  is  your  fondness  for  that  singular  be- 
ing." 

"  You  do  not  object,"  said  Eric,  earnestly ; 
"  I  know  you  do  not.  My  friendship  is  tho 
only  ray  of  light  in  his  dreary  existouco." 

"  I  do  not  object,"  said  tho  mother,  seri- 


•  ..i&waiCmiaiiMiijuiaiiitiAW'M'i 


90 


SEVEN  YEAnS  AKD  MAIB. 


ously  "  Yot,  us  I  liavo  often  toM  you,  I 
liave  ft  i)n'm-i.tiii>(>nt  Unit  l.o  will  Im  in  wmn 
wftv  t;omicct(Hl  with  your  iift«r-lifu. 

'"'  Dona  thiM  proHoiitiiiu'iit  point  to  gooU  or 
evil  T"  Hiiiil  Eric,  urivvcly. 

<'I  cannot  tell,"  Hiii.l  slio;  'M>ui.  lua  very 
presence  tills  mo  with  a.  vngno  souse  <»f  u«- 
eiisinesH."  ,    , 

Snppor  Wfts  cnlleil  at  the  moment,  and  tJio 
U.lallcr  renmikei),  as  ho  roao  with  chocrlnl 
alacrity  to  obey  the  Humnions, 

"  I  must  confess  I  am  h,\m\  ;  for  what  witli 
your  talk  of  omens  «n<l  the  like,  and  tho 
innttcrinR  of  tho  storu)  without,  I  am  glad 
of  anything  more  cheery." 

Old  (lunhild,  who  had  been  Lne  s  nurse, 
sat  at  tho  table  with  th.-ni,  and  was  treated 
■with  tho  most  marked  doferouco;  for,  as  sho 
used  to  say  herself, 

"  I  nursed  yov.r  father  beloro  you,  ami  1 
remember  your  graudfatlier,  who  was  a  no- 
l»le  ccntlouian." 

Her  voice  was  cracked  with  age,  her  cyos 
had  grown  dim,  her  stop  unsteady  ;  but  all 
these  tokens  of  decline  only  uu.do  her  an 
object  of  greater  respect  and  tenderness  in 
the  Udallei's  home. 

It  was  while  they  were  at  supper  that  1  lie 
Btorm  burst,  and,  as  wo  have  seen,  with  tho 


D  MAIR. 


BXVEX  TEAnS  AND  MAin. 


21 


often  tt)l«l  yoOi  ^ 

lio  will  \»i  iu  W'Uin 

aftor-lif.i." 

t  imiut  t<'  good  or 

10 ;  'Mint  l)i»T»ty 
faguo  BOUMo  of  ""- 

i()moni<^iit,rvt!il  tlio 
11)80  with  clicciful 
itoim, 

liid ;  for  what  with 
tlui  liko,  mill  tlio 
.vlltiout,  I  ain  glad 
» 

.  been  Eric's  iitirRO, 
111,  ami  \v(W  trcatwl 
ifoioiico ;  for,  as  she 

r  before  yon,  niirt  I 
;lier,  who  wiw  a  «io- 

l  with  nRC,  her  eyes 

i>  nimteaily ;  but  all 

only  nia'l"  lu«r  an 

t  anil  toudorness  in 

•e  ot  Bnppcr  that  llio 
have  Hoon,  with  tho 


(jroatOHt  fury;  hut  the  jirayer  wnn  said  ear- 
ly, and  tlio  liiiuscliold,  wrapiKHl  in  profound 
Nliunber,  bcciinio  uncoiiHcioiix  of  itH  rii);o,  and 
likowiso  niu'onscioiiH  tliat  toward  iniilni;;1it 
tlio  clouds  liiid  Hciittored,  and  tho  ntonii- 
king  withdrawn  hii*  thuiidcrouo  logiouo. 


CHAPTER  II. 


"A  KAllant  aiglit  It  was  tn  »eo 
Their  diet  sweep  o'er  tho  ilnrk-bliie  ten  ; 
Kacli  war-ship,  wl'.h  im  Ihrcntciiliij'  thront 
ordriigoii  llerco  or  rnvenoiis  hnitc, 
Cirlm-Kiipliig  from  4[|»  prow;  Its  wnlpii 
OllllcrlDif  with  biiriilBhed  ehlelds  like  Bcnle«  j 
lis  crew  of  Udiil  men  of  wnr, 
Whose  snow-whito  targota  nhono  nfiir." 

Saga  vf  Harold  of  llaar/itger. 

The  dawn  was  very  fair  when  Eric  catno 
ont  of  tho  liouso  and  walked  rapidly  toward 
tlio  elift".  Not  a  Hoiind  broku  in  upon  tho 
morning  stilluess  but  tho  inurniiir  of  tho  uii- 
slinnbcring  sea.  A  purpliBli  nii.st  had  coino 
up  from  tho  wator,  and  mingled  with  tlio 
lino  of  white  light  that  parted  tho  Avestcrix 
Bky,  telling  tliat  the  full  glory  of  tho  Hunriso 
was  at  hand.  Tlio  air  was  clear  and  cool ; 
tho  short  grass  damp  with  tho  dew;  tho 


•!A'-.ux»:" 


22 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  JIAIR. 


fisliing-boata  lying  it  anchor  out  some  dis- 
tance from  the  Bbore.  At  tlio  foot  of  tbo 
cliflFEyvind  ^Ya8  waiting-  with  tlio  boat  and 
flsbin<; -tackle,  Eric  leaped  from  point  to 
point  of  tbe  rock,  and  soou  gained  bis  side. 
The  air  and  exercise  bad  ;iven  bim  color; 
his  bair  was  blowing  about  carelessly;  bo 
resembled,  in  tbo  llush  of  bis  daring  ycutb, 
a  young  Berserker  setting  foot  on  bis  sea- 
ward-bound scow. 

The  young  men  steered  their  boat  toward 
tbe  Fctlar  shore,  where  tbo  fishing  was  ex- 
cellent. Tnvy  v.ero  usually  absent  all  day 
upon  these  expoditiona,  and  returned  with 
strings  offish  gleaminjg(ind  glistening  with 
tbe  phosphorescout  colors  that  these  creat- 
ures catch  from  their  wateiy  home.  Eric 
often  fancied,  as  be  gazed  intently  at  them, 
that  their  round,  p.lassy  eyes  seemed  to  wear 
a  wise,  care-woru  look,  as  if  they  bad  strange 
secrets,  found  in  the  sea-deeps,  and  not  to  bo 
told  to  ears  profane. 

Eyviud  accompanied  Eric  homo  that 
uight,  leaving  his  mother  well,  and  in  one 
of  her  calmest  moods.  She  had  busied  her- 
self putting  tbe  bouse  to  rights,  and  pre- 
pared some  food,  of  which  she  herself  par- 
took. Eyvind  sometimes  fancied  that,  had 
Ixe  understood  her  foreign  speech,  she  would 


>-D  MAIR. 


SEVEN  YKArg  AND  MAIR. 


23 


ichor  out  somo  dis- 
Kt  tlio  foot  of  the 
witb  tho  boat  aud 
.pod  from  poiut  to 
ou  gained  Lis  side, 
d  ,'ivcii  biin  color; 
i)out  carelessly;  bo 
f  bis  daring  ycutb, 
ug  foot  ou  bis  sea- 

(1  tbeir  boat  toward 
tbo  fisbiiig  -was  cx- 
iilly  n.bsect  all  day 
and  retnrued  witli 
^nd  glistening  with 
rs  that  these  creat- 
«itery  homo.  Eric 
;d  intently  at  them, 
eyes  seemed  to  wear 
i  if  they  bad  strange 
deeps,  aud  not  to  bo 

L  Erie  liomo  that 
er  well,  and  in  one 
Slie  had  busied  her- 
to  rights,  and  prc- 
ich  she  herself  par- 
es fancied  that,  had 
;n  speech,  she  would 


have  told  him  something  of  her  former  life ; 
at  such  times  as  this  ho  fancied  there  was  a 
ray  of  intelligence  on  her  face,  but,  alas !  he 
was  a  stranger  to  her,  and  her  Ian  jn ago  was 
unintelligible  to  him.  Ho  used  to  think 
that  when,  during  these  intervals  of  calm, 
slie  addressed  liim,  she  seemed  disappointed 
at  his  failing  to  uu.lerstand,  and  at  last  sunk 
into  a  silent,  stony  indiflerence  from  which 
she  could  not  be  aroused.  Still  it  was  al- 
ways safe  to  leave  her  alone  a'  such  times, 
and  ho  accompanied  Eric  homo  without  tho 
slightest  appreliensiou  for  her  safety- 
After  supper  Eric  gave  Eyvind  a  bench 
before  the  lire,  and  stretched  himself  on  tlio 
rug.  His  father  and  mother  sat  in  their  ac- 
customed places,  and  old  Gunhild  had  her 
comfortable  corner  close  to  the  hearth. 

"  Motlier,"  said  Eric,  coaxingly, "  it  is  long 
since  yon  have  told  us  any  of  your  Norso 
legends.    Tell  us  Bome  to-night,  after  our 
day  of  fatigue." 
The  mother  smiled. 

"  You  are  always  ready  with  a  plea,"  she 
said,  and  he  kuew  she  mcaut  to  graut'his 
request. 

"  Tell  ng  tho  story  of  Sigurd  the  Crusa- 
der," ho  said,  entroatingly — "  ho  that  i'onght 
so  bravely  in  tho  Holy  Wars.    Eyvind  has 


SEVEN  YEAB8  AND  MAIIt. 

iiever  lieard  it,  and  I  but  lia\f  remember 
it." 

Tlio  iiiotlicr  stroked  tbo  boyisb  head  as 
Bbe  began  ber  tale. 

"  He  was  a  man  of  migbt,"  sbo  said,  "  and 
was  always  clad  in  blue,  shining  armor  that 
dazzled  bis  foeracn's  eyes.  You  know  that 
when  King  Magnus  died,  bis  three  sons,  Ey- 
stein,  Olaf,  and  Sigurd,  wore  chosen  to  reigu 
over  diflerent  parts  of  the  country.  All  this 
I  have  told  you,  however.  Hut  wlien  Sigurd 
■was  fourteen  years  of  age,  the  Skoptr  Og- 
innndsBon  came  from  beyond  the  setu  and 
brought  tidings  of  the  strange  countries  and 
tlie  strange  sights  be  bad  witnessed,  and 
Sigurd's  subjects  called  upon  him  to  lead 
them  thither,  where  they,  too,  miglit  win 
■wealth  and  glory.  Four  yeai-s  from  that 
time  Sigurd  went  to  England,  and  joined 
with  William,  tbo  king  of  the  English. 
When  the  long  winter  was  over,  tliey  sot 
sail,  and  they  took  their  course  toward  Val- 
land  and  Gailicia.  When  the  Yule-tide  was 
post,  Sigurd  fell  in  with  the  beatbon ;  then 
he  Would  have  been  plundered  and  his  ves- 
sels taken,  but  he  fought  bravely,  t.nd  gain- 
ed the  victory.  And  when  ho  bad  lauded 
in  Spain,  theii  called  Jacob'g  Land,  he  took 
numy  castles  belonging  to  hie  pugau  foemen, 


ND  MAIR. 

ut  lia\f  remember 

Le  boj'isb  head  as 

;lit,"  sbo  said, "  and 
sbiiiinjr  armor  tbat 
8.  Yuii  know  tbat 
bis  three  sons,  Ey- 
oro  chosea  to  reign 
B  country.  All  this 
.  But  when  Sigurd 
ge,  the  Skoptr  Og- 
yond  the  sefu  and 
"ango  countries  and 
liad  witnessed,  and 

upon  him  to  lead 
ey,  too,  might  win 
\v  yeai-s  from  that 
ngland,  and  joined 
T  of  the  English, 
was  over,  they  set 
course  toward  Val- 
lu  the  Yule-tide  was 

the  heathen ;  thou 
itdercd  and  his  ves- 
t  bravely,  i«nd  gain- 
hen  ho  bad  lauded 
cob'9  Land,  he  took 
:o  hie  pugau  foemen, 


SEVEN  YEAnS  AXD  MAIR. 


25 


and,  as  he  went  through  that  and  the  ad- 
joiuing  conntries,  did  battle  eourageonsly 
against  them.  And  us  ho  sailed,  lie  camo  to 
the  shores  of  Surkland,  which  is  the  country 
of  the  Moors,  and  there  lived  some  of  these 
tierce  people  in  an  immense  cavern,  where- 
in they  kept  all  their  jdunder.  Within  the 
cavern  was  a  great  wall,  built  by  them  as  a 
fortification.  So,  when  Sigurd  and  bis  men 
had  forced  their  way  thus  far,  the  heathen 
depended  on  the  stone  -  wall  for  protection. 
But  Sigurd  caused  his  men  to  light  a  lire, 
and  smoked  them  out  of  the  cave,  possessing 
himself  of  all  their  spoils. 

"As  time  went  on,  he  reaclujd  the  kingdom 
of  Sicily,  where  dwelt  the  brave  and  power- 
ful Duke  Roger.  This  good  ruler  advanced 
to  meet  Sigurd,  and  entertained  him  right 
royally;  so  that  when  he  was  leaving  he 
took  the  duke  by  the  hand,  and,  leading 
him  to  the  throne  whereou  he  himself  had 
sat,  placed  him  thereupon,  and  declared  he 
should  be  king  for  evermore  in  Sicily  ;  foriu 
those  times  a  king  could  raise  a  duke  to  the 
throne,  or  a  duke  a  marquis  to  a  dukedom ; 
and  Roger  afterward  was  surnamed  the 
Great. 

"  In  the  snmpier-time,  when  warm,  sonth- 
crn  breezes,  heavy  with  the  odor  of  spices 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIU. 

and  the  rich  fragrance  of  tropical  flowers, 
^ete  Wowing  across  the  Greek  Sea,  Sigura 
raUed  to  Palestine.  When  Bildvvm,  wlio 
was  then  king  of  Jerusalem,  heard  of  his 

"°^S:;tiny  people,  that  a  great,  ana 
micrhty  king  is  coming  from  the  North  to 
visTt  us.  .Ho  hath  done  many  gallant  deeds, 
and  we  must  receive  him  well ;  but  we  shall 
first  discover  his  power  and  nmgn.hcence 
Bring  forth  your  most  gorgeons  ^f  ^raei  ts, 
and  cast  them  upon  the  road:  .f  he  i.de 
over  them,  he  is  indeed  a  great  king;  but 
"f  he  turn  aside,  he  keepcth  not  royal  mag- 

"' "TurSignrd  rode  straight  over  the  gar- 
ments, and  told  his  foUowers  to  do  the  same ; 
and  Baldwin  was  mightily  imposed   here- 
with.   Then  Sigurd  abode  w.th  him  till  the 
eav^s  were  falling  and  the  antnmn-trme  had 
come     Baldwin  gave  him  relics,  an*  among 
them  a  splinter  of  the  wood  of  the  True 
Crow;  he  also  made  great  banquets  for  him 
and  for  his  followers.     Together,  the  two 
kings  took  a  town  in  Syria  called  Saet ;  and 
tvhfu  the  spoils  were  divided,  S.gurd  made 
Rift  of  his  to  Baldwin. 
®  "  Soon  after,  he  sailed  away  m  »9  silken- 
sailed  galleys  to  the  country  of  the  Greeks. 


ND  MAin. 

)f  tropical  flowcre, 

Greek  Soa,  Sigurd 

ben  Baldwin,  who 

talcm,  heard  of  his 

e,  that  ft  gvenfc  and 
iiom  the  North  to 
nany  gallant  deeds, 
»  well ;  but  we  shall 
•  and  niagnificouce. 
Torgeons  vestments, 
i'o  road:  if  ho  ride 
.  a  great  king;  bnt 
peth  not  royal  mag- 

raight  over  the  gar- 
wers  to  do  the  same ; 
tily  impressed  thore- 
odo  -with  him  till  tho 
the  antnmn-timo  had 
lim  relics,  and  among 
0  wood  of  tho  True 
oat  banquets  for  him 
Together,  tho  two 
yria  called  Saet ;  and 
iivided,  Sigurd  made 

id  away  in  his  silkcn- 
ountry  of  the  Greeks. 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


27 


And  the  emperor  thereof  ordered  rich  gar- 
ments and  precious  stuffs  to  bo  laid  in  his 
way ;  but  tho  Norsemen  regarded  them  not. 
Sigurd  bad  his  horso  and  tho  horses  of  his 
men  shod  in  gold;  and  one  of  tho  shoes 
coming  off  in  tho  streets,  tho  people  found 
it,  and  marvelled  much.  Harps  and  cym- 
bals were  sounded  before  them,  and  minne- 
singers, preceding  them,  chanted  triumphal 
strains.  In  the  hall  of  state,  the  greatest 
niagnilicence  was  displayed.  The  emperor 
sent  in  purses  of  gold;  bnt  Sigurd,  disdain- 
ing oven  to  glance  at  them,  had  them  di- 
vided auioug  tho  people ;  and  tho  minne- 
singers, returning,  told  the  emperor,  who 
marvelled,  saying, 

" '  Eich,  indeed,  must  he  be.* 

"And  ho  sent  chests  and  coffers  of  gold, 
bnt  tho  king  gave  them  to  his  people ;  and 
the  emperor  said, 

'"Either  ho  must  far  outrival  all  other 
kings  in  splendor  and  magnificence,  or  he 
hatli  not  the  uuderstaudiug  which  kings 
should  have.' 

"And  he  sent,  a  third  time,  tho  costliest 
garments  of  purple  and  riugs  and  ornaments 
of  gold ;  and  the  king  put  the  rings  on  his 
fingers,  and  thanked  tho  emperor  in  many 
beautiful  words,  but  gave  what  ho  had  sent 


SEVEN  YEAU8  AND  MAIU. 

to  his  people.  And  the  onipcror  had  tl.o 
games  Jlayert  in  hin  honor  at  tho  Padreiu  , 
which  was  a  flat  phiin  surrounded  by  a  h.gU 
stone-wall;  ronnd  the  wall  were  earthen 
banks,  where  sat  the  spectators.  Many  an- 
cient mythological  events  were  represented 
bv  these  games.  ,       ., 

"Once  King  Sigurd  had  bidden  the  em- 
peror  to  a  sumptuous  feast,  and  no  firewood 
wherewith  to  prepare  the  viands  was  to  bo 
had  in  the  town;  so  tho  king  ordered  great 
quantities  of  walnuts  to  be  brought,  and 
these  served  for  fuel.  Then  the  Lrapress  of 
the  Greeks,  who  had  occasioned  the  dearth 
of  firewood  to  see  what  Signrd  would  do 
under  such  circumstances,  said, 

"'Truly  this  is  a  magnificent  king,  wUo 
spares  no  expense  where  his  honor  is  con- 

"^^wiien  King  Sigurd  departed  from  Con- 
stantinople, he  gave  the  emperor  aU  his 
ships  and  tho  costly  ornaments  belonging 
thereto.  Through  many  other  countries  did 
the  king  journey,  and  everywhere  was  he  re- 
ceived with  tho  Neatest  honor.  At  a«t  ho 
returned  to  his  own  kingdom,  w-lioro  he  was 
bailed  with  tho  greatest  joy  by  his  people. 

"■  Ho  was  a  glorious  king,  mother,"  crieU 
Eric ;  "  brave,  and  noble,  and  generous. 


ik. 


{D  MAIR. 

orapcror  litwl  tlio 
r  at  tho  Pmlreiut, 
■rotuulod  by  a  bigh 
vail  were  eartbeu 
itators.  Many  an- 
j  were  represented 

m\  bidden  tbo  em- 
at,  and  no  firewood 
B  viands  was  to  bo 
king  ordered  great 
0  be  brougbt,  and 
lien  tbo  Empress  of 
asioned  tbe  dearth 
;  Signrd  would  do 
8,  said, 

Tiiittcent  king,  who 
e  bis  honor  is  con- 
departed  from  Con- 
10  emperor  all  his 
ruameuts  belonging 
'  other  countries  did 
ery  where  was  he  re- 
b  honor.  At  last  ho 
gdoni,  where  he  was 
i  joy  by  his  people." 
king,  mother,"  cried 
B,  and  generous." 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


20 


"Glorious,  indeed!"  said  his  mother,  half 
dreamily.  81m  was  lost  in  her  visions  of 
the  past  glories  of  her  race.  She  sat  half  in 
shadow;  but  tlie  red  light  from  the  hearth 
fell  softly  on  her  face,  and  brightened  her 
dark  gown.  Eyviud  did  not  speak,  bnt 
his  black  eyes  were  fixed  ui)on  her  with  n 
strange,  intense  expression.  His  face  had 
a  look  of  curious  exultation,  as  one  who 
Shares  in  tbe  triumph  of  some  noble  forefa- 
ther. Eric,  too,  was  excited ;  his  eyes  were 
sliiniiig  in  tbe  light  of  the  fire,  his  bead 
thrown  b.ackward,  his  month  slightly  part- 
ed. The  mother  glanced  at  him  fondly, 
caught  tho  strange  look  on  Eyvind's  face, 
ami  woudend.  Then  she  turned  to  her 
husband;  bo  was  fast. asleep  in  bis  chair, 
hi:-,  pipe  having  fallen  on  his  knee  and  cov- 
ered it  with  ashes.  Slie  was  not  surprised  ; 
only  sighed  very  faintly,  and  went  on  with 
her  story ; 

"Many  tales  are  told  of  him  after  his  re- 
turn to  his  kingdom.  Once,  on  a  Friday, 
the  steward  sent  to  ask  the  king  what  should 
be  served  on  the  royal  table,  and  the  king 
answered, 

" '  What's  best— flesh-meat.' 

"And  the  meat  was  served.  As  the  king 
was  in  gloomy  mood,  none  dared  to  sny  him 


90 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIK. 


IP'' 


%  A 


nav,  and  the  blessing  was  pronounced.  Then 
Aslak  Hane,  who  Lad  journeyed  over  the  seas 
with  the  king,  iind,  though  of  low  lineage, 
stood  high  iu  his  favor,  said  to  hini, 

"  <  What  is  it,  sire,  that  Biaokcs  on  the  Uisu 
before  thee  t' 

"And  Sigurd  answered, 
" '  What  think'st  thou  is  it  t' 
"  Then  Aslak,  answering,  said, 
" '  I  think  it  is  flcsh-nicat,  and  I  would  it 
were  not  so.' 

"And  the  king  said, 

"'Butifitbesor  .,  *  i  i    .t„ 

" '  It  would  bo  vexatious,'  said  Aslak,    to 
know  that  a  gallant  king,  who  has  gamed 
80  much  honor  in  the  world,  should  so  torgct 
hiin.     Wlion  you  rose  np  out  of  the  Jor«lan, 
sire,  after  bathing  in  the  sanio  water  as  Uod 
himself,  with  palm-leaves  in  your  hands,  and 
the  cross  upon  your  breast,  it  was  something 
else  you  promised,  sire,  than  to  cat  llcsh-meat 
on  Friday.    If  a  meaner  man  were  to  do  it, 
he  would  merit  a  heavy  punishment.     1  us 
royal  hall  is  not  so  beset  as  it  should  be, 
when  it  falls  upon  me,  a  mean  man,  to  chal- 
lenge such  an       t.'  .     ,    ,        T1    „„». 

"The  king  was  silent;  but  he  did  not 
partake  of  the  food,  and  shortly  had  it  re- 
moved, and  other  food  brought  lu.     The 


^4-., 


IND  MAIR> 

pronounccil.    Then 
rueyedovor  the  seas 
ugh  of  low  lineage, 
mill  to  him, 
t  smokcH  on  the  dish 

•1, 

I  is  it  r 

iiig,  said, 

nout,  and  I  would  it 

ions,'  said  Aslak, '  to 
ing,  who  has  gained 
orld,  should  so  forget 
ip  out  of  the  Jordan, 
10  samo  water  as  God 
■OS  in  your  hands,  and 
last,  it  was  something 
than  to  oat  Ucsh-meat 
er  man  were  to  do  it, 
y  punishment.  Thia 
esot  as  it  should  he, 
a  mean  man,  to  chal- 

ent;  hut  ho  did  not 
nd  shortly  had  it  ro- 
id  brought  iu.     The 


SKVEN   YEAH8  AXD  MAIIl. 


31 


courtiers  urged.  Aslak  to  fly  for  fear  of  the 
king's  vengeaiico ;  hut  ho  niado  answer, 
saying,  'That  if  ho  died  then,  ho  was  well 
liropareJ,  as  ho  had  saved  the  king  from 
Kin.' 

"And  the  king,  calling  him  after,  gave 
him  throe  farms,  and  told  him  it  wiim  hms 
tlian  he  deserved,  seeing  that  he  had  saved 
him  from  a  great  crime." 

"Aslak  was  a  hero,  mother,  was  he  uotT" 
said  Eric,  musingly,  "even  though  ho  was 
not  a  king  nor  an  earl." 

"  Ho  was,  indeed,  my  son,"  said  the  moth- 
er, "  for  ho  had  courage  to  combat  oven  his 
king  rather  than  let  liim  do  wrong.  That 
is  the  truest  kind  of  heroism  —  sacrificing 
one's  own  interest  for  the  right.  Kcniem- 
ber  that,  my  boy,  and  let  my  words  come 
buck  to  you  when,  ])erhap8,  t  lie  lips  that  ut- 
tered them  are  cold." 

"  I  will  remember,  mother,"  said  Eric,  ear- 
nestly; "and  perhaps  some  time  the  story 
of  Aslak  will  teach  mo  what  1  ought  to  do." 

Such  were  the  talcs  the  mother  told  him 
and  his  strango  companion  on  many  a  win- 
ter night,  within  the  shadow  of  the  home- 
Itcarth.  Snch,  too,  were  the  morals  she  usu- 
ally contrived  to  draw  when  tho  eveuing's 
tulo  was  ended.     8ucli  they  were,  and  such 


38 


SEVEN  YEAHS  AND  MAIR. 


thoy  camo  back  to  them  wlion  distance,  and 
time,  and  tlio  Rn-at  bniadth  of  the  ocean  lay 
between  tlit^m  and  tlio  sweot-voicod  woman 
who  bad  briglitened  tlio  winter  iiiRbts  by 
the  lldnllei'H  liieside.     Krio  and  his  friend 
grow  to  bo  as  familiar  witli  Odin  and  Thor, 
their  belli«li  rites  and  dark  Baciilices,  the 
joys  of  Valhalla,  and  the  mystic  celebration 
of  Yiilo,  as  the  children  of  other  countries 
are  with  Mother  Goose's  Uliymes  or  the  lore 
of  Fairy-land.     To  them  Magnns  and  llar- 
ald,  Earl  Nakon,  or  Sigurd  of  the  Kavcn 
Banner,  worked  by  his  mother's  hand,  wero 
honsebold  names;   and  oft  between  them- 
Belves  they  discnssod  the  hallowed  life  and 
acts  of  Olaf  the  Saint,  bis  efforts  to  estab- 
lish Christianity  in  Norway,  and  his  fervent 
piety,  which  induced  him  to  rise  at  dawn 
for  mass  and  the  singing  of  nmtins. 

Thus  did  these  tales  of  the  past  incnlcato 
in  them  a  love  of  what  was  great  and  good ; 
thus  did  they  form  their  characters  on  pnro 
and  exalted  models.  For  Erie  they  had  tho 
further  advantage  of  falling  from  a  mother's 
lips;  she  Wius  the  scald  who  poured  fortli  in 
lofty  language  tho  sagas  of  eld,  sagas  which 
■wore  inscribed  on  Eric's  young  and  pliable 
heart  in  characters  far  deeper  and  more  in- 
delible than  tho  ancient  Runic  ones  curved 


n 
ii 

"1 

ti 

g 
o 

si 

tl 
t( 

d 
£ 

a 

w 
h 

V 

I 
t 

B: 
B 

fl 
O 

e 

0 

t 
li 

11 


AND  MAIR. 


SEVEN  YEAItS  AND  MAIK. 


33 


n  whon  cliMtnnco,  mid 
iiiltli  of  till)  oceiui  lay 
8\veot-voico(l  woman 
lio  winter  niglita  1»y 
Erie  niitl  liis  friend 
witli  Oiliu  iiiidTlior, 
I  lUirk  HiiciilicoB,  th« 
lio  mystic  colobratioii 
Ml  "f  otlior  countrios 
I's  Uliyinos  or  tho  loro 
em  Mu(;ii"8  and  llar- 
ii>;urd  of  tho  Kavon 
i  motliei'H  luvnd,  wcro 
d  oft  between  tliom- 
the  hallowed  life  and 
t,  his  efTorts  to  oHtaU- 
jiwuy,  and  his  fervent 
him  to  riHo  at  dawn 
ng  of  matins. 
H  of  tho  post  incnlcato 
t  was  great  and  good ; 
elr  characters  on  pure 
For  Eric  they  had  tho 
falling  from  a  mother's 
Id  who  ponred  forth  in 
gas  of  eld,  sagas  which 
ic'a  young  and  pliable 
ir  deeper  and  more  in- 
ent  Runic  ones  carved 


npon  tho  unyielding  stones.  There  was  nu 
inoflablo  charm  in  tho  legends  thenwelvos, 
which  was  nmch  enhuuccd  by  tho  narrator's 
spooch  and  bearing;  to  her  poetic  nature 
they  had  a  half-superstitious  meaning;  she 
was  thrilled  through  and  through  with  the 
glori<)3  of  tho  |iiiNt,  and  tho  knightly  doo<l8 
of  tho  heroes  of  her  race,  and  iih  she  wont 
sho  quoted  whole  verses  from  tho  sagas  of 
tho  scalds.  No  wonder,  then,  that  long  af- 
ter boyhood  was  past,  Erie  listened  with 
delight  to  his  mother's  old-time  loro,  while 
Eyvind  was  transported  into  another  land, 
n  species  of  Volhalla,  inhabited  only  by  the 
souls  of  departed  heroes.  In  fancy  ho  could 
hear  tho  ballads  of  the  niinuosingers  snug 
with  tho  old  lire  and  tenderness;  ho  could 
hear  tho  "war -songs  shouted  from  Norse 
taverns  in  tho  darkening  twilight ;"  lie  could 
sail  over  treacherous  or  stormy  seas  iu  tho 
scows, silken-rigged  and  silken-sailed;  and 
for  hours  together  he  gloated  over  his  hoard 
of  legendary  joys,  which  served  to  bright- 
en the  lonely  dreariness  of  his  own  exist- 
once. 

"  Oh,  son  of  my  heart !"  cried  the  mother, 

turning  suddenly  to  Erie  whun  she  ended 

Lor  tale  that  evening,  "son  of  my  heart, 

uover  do  anything  unworthy  of  your  noble 

3 


-iassSS"!*****'" 


34 


SEVEN  YEAlia  AND  MAIR. 


ll 


race!    They  Imvn  left  you  n  IfRiicy  of  hon- 
or.    Do  you  k<Hii>  it  untiiiiii«lu'(l." 

"  Hut,  uiothnr,"  criiul  Ki  it!,  "  must  I  Htivy 
foroviTou  thin  ilcBoliUc  iHJuiKl.Hluit  off  from 
tho  Krcat,  wido  worhl— fioni  fiiiuo,  froui  fort- 
nnc,  froiu  hopo  f  Ho'initinii-s  voicBS  Hceui  to 
conio  to  luo  from  out  tho  di-op  wftter«,  call- 
iuK  upon  nio  toiipliohl  tlie  shuy  of  our  rnco, 
TluMt,  uu)tlii!r,  tlio  bhiod  of  tlio  viltinKs  IcnpH 
iu  uiy  vt'iuH,  iviul  1  loiiR  to  go  uway  from  here 
nnil  <lo  tiieir  bithling." 

"  You  tnu  «lo  it  hero,  my  boy  ;  here  among 
your  pt'oplo  \»  tho  plnco  wlii'ro  you  can  uioMt 
tiobly  upliolil  tlioir  jjlory,  ami  k"!"'!  tho  iu- 
horitiinco  of  vour  fiitlicrs.  You  luo  tho  pco- 
jilo's  ia<il ;  l«t  th(>in  Hw,  through  tho  years 
to  come,  that  tho  blood  in  your  veiuB  is  tho 
same  puvj  and  untainted  bhtod  that  has 
llowcd  down  tlirough  »  lino  of  chieftains. 
Live  hero,  hoiU)red  and  boh)ved  by  your  peo- 
ple, on  your  fatliors  Lave  done  for  gencra- 
tiouH." 

"Tliat  may  como  to  pass,  dear  mother! 
cried  Erie,  iinpotuouHly,  "but  not  until  I 
have  Been  something  of  tho  groat  world, 

"  What's  tho  boy  at  now  !"  cried  tho  lldal- 
ler,  starting  from  his  sleep.  "  Who  talks  of 
seeing  tho  world  t    What  folly  is  this  f " 


n 

HI 

K 

e 
h 

Bl 
tl 
I 

K 

h 


)  AXn  MAIB. 


8EVF..V  YBAH8  AND  MAIH. 


35 


you  II  If^iicy  of  hnn- 

itlUMliNlH'll." 

»l  Kii(!,  "  must  I  Htuy 

0  Uliinil.Blnit  oft' from 
-from  fiiiiu),  frimi  fort- 
ititimi's  voices  hcciii  to 
tho  ill'!'))  waters,  cnll- 
Itlio  ({lory  ofoiir  rnc«>. 
h1  of  tilt)  vikiiiKHli'dim 
5  to  go  uway  from  licro 

»,  my  boy  ;  lioro  nmonK 
CO  wlit^ro  you  cau  mont 
ory,  ami  nuiuil  tlio  iii- 
icrn.  You  uro  tlio  pco- 
«'o,  through  tlio  years 
)(l  ill  your  veins  is  tlio 
lintetl  blood  tlmt  luis 

1  n  lino  of  cliief tains. 
(I  bolovoil  by  your  peo- 
littvo  dono  for  geuera- 

to  pofis,  dear  mother !" 
sly,  "but  not  until  I 
i;  of  tlio  great  world, 

t  now  t"  cried  tlio  Udal- 
sloop.  "  Who  talks  of 
iVhat  folly  is  this  T" 


Tliero  was  Hilcuce  aiiioiif;  tho  group;  the 
clock  ticked  loiiilly  in  llio  rooni ;  a  cinder 
fell  out  upon  the  liearMi ;  tlio  room  was 
nearly  dark,  and  even  their  own  llgures 
gceined  weird  and  uiuouth, 

''  llless  me,  but  you  keep  tho  room  gloomy, 
good  wife  !"Kald  tho  Udaller,  novvoUMJy,  tidg- 
titiiig  alxHit  for  the  liiigo  miuaro  of  nilk  that 
ho  used  for  a  liiiudkerchief.  "And  Krie,"  ho 
said,  "if  you  have  any  roving  notions,  givo 
them  up, and  the  sooner  tho  better.  Whilo 
I  live,  you  will  never  sot  foot  on  tho  stran- 
ger's soil,  except  it  bo  on  ono  of  tho  iii'igh- 
boriiig  isles." 

Erio  arose,  and  putting  his  hand  nlFcc- 
tionatcly  on  his  father's  shoulder,  said, 

"1  cannot  promise  to  put  the  notion  out 
of  my  lu'ad,  but  I  will  not  vex  you  with  it. 
And  now  good-night.'' 

"Uood-iiight,"  said  the  father, completely 
restored  to  good-humor;  "you  uro  leaving 
us  early." 

"  I  was  up  at  dawn,  and  on  tho  water  all 
day  long,"  answered  Eric,  "  and  so  shall 
sleep  without  rocking." 

"Good-night,  my  lady,"  said  Eyvind,  ad- 
dressing the  mother.  "Tho  tuh-s  you  havo 
told  us  will  haunt  mo  oven  in  my  sleep." 

"  You  lovo  tbcae  old  talcs,  Ey viud,"  said 


36 


SEVEN  TEABS  AND  MAIIS. 


tlio  lady,  kiudly ;  yot  even  as  she  spoke  to 
Lim  she  shuddered,  her  presentiment  com- 
ing strong  upon  ber.  "You  must  come 
■whenever  you  can,"  she  continued.  "But 
bow  is  it  you  leave  your  poor  deranged 
mother  so  much  alone  V 

"Ah,  my  lady,"  said  Eyvind,  half  sadly, 
"  she  is  better  alone.  My  presence  only  stirs 
ber,  for  at  times  she  thinks  me  other  than  I 
am,  and  talks  to  me  in  a  foreign  tongue,  and 
iu  a  voice  that  makes  me  shudder." 

"  Your  mother  is  a  foreigner,  I  know," 
said  the  lady ;  "  but  to  what  country  does 
she  belong?" 

"  To  France,  I  think,"  said  Eyvind ;  "  she 
speaks  continually  of  the  Loire,  and  that,  I 
know,  13  a  river  of  France.  But,  thank  you, 
lady,  for  bidding  rae  come  so  often.  I  am 
lonely  at  the  hut." 

Tlio  lady  was  touched,  and  answered  kind- 
ly, bidding  him  come  as  often  as  his  moth- 
er's condition  would  permit. 

"  Good-night,  master,"  said  Eyvind  to  the 
Udaller. 

"  Good-night,  my  lad,  good-night." 

Eric  went  with  him  to  the  door ;  and  as 
they  stood  a  moment,  they  saw  that  the 
moon  was  lighting  up  the  crags,  and  falling 
into  the  water  in  rare  rifts  of  silver,  form- 


al'H 

Mil  i 


! 

J 

■1 

1^ 

s 

mo  MAIlt. 

en  ns  sho  spoke  to 
presentiment  com- 
"You  mnst  como 
>  continued.  "But 
our  poor  deranged 

Eyvind,  half  sadly, 
J  presence  only  stirs 
iks  me  other  than  I 
foreign  tongue,  and 
5  fehuddcr." 
foi-cigncr,  I  know," 
what  country  does 

said  Eyvind ;  "  she 
10  Loire,  and  that,  I 
se.  But,  thank  you, 
me  so  often.    I  am 

and  answered  kind- 
I  ofteu  as  his  ntoth- 
mit. 
'  said  Eyvind  to  the 

good-night." 
:o  tho  door;  and  as 
they  saw  that  the 
ic  crags,  and  falling 
rifts  of  silver,  form- 


SEVEN  YEARS  AXD  MAIR. 


37 


ing  aerial  barks  in  which  spirits  might  glide 
about  on  their  missions  of  light.    Eric  watch- 
ed his  friend  depart ;  saw  his  footprints  on 
the  sand ;  heard  a  night-bird  shrieking  aloft 
in  tho  birch-trees,  felt  tho  soft  quietude  of 
tho  evening  air,  and  the  peculiar,  silvery 
mist  in  Avhich  the  moon  had  -wrapped  tho 
earth.     Eyvind   pursued   his   lonely   way 
across  the  moor  and  over  tho  crags  to  tho 
hat  door.    His  mother  was  within,  asleep  in 
tho  moonshine,  her  head  resting  on  a  chair, 
her  troubled  soul  at  peace.    He  laid  her  o!i 
the  bed  and  went  out.     He  seated  himself 
ou  an  overhanging  point  of  the  rock,  and 
there,  till  the  moon  had  set,  deep  down  in 
tlio  purple  caverns  of  the  sea,  he  kept  his 
lonely  vigil,  stiiTod  by  the  romance  of  the 
past,  far  away  iu  tho  blissful  realms  of  his 
uncreated  world  of  fancy,  forgetful  of  his 
poverty,  forgetful  of  the  horrors  of  the  lone- 
ly hut,  forgetful  even  of  the  beautiful  moon- 
shine— remembering  only  that  he,  too,  was 
heir  to  the  glories  of  the  past,  and  free  to 
enjoy  their  delights.     Meantime  the  moon 
looked  calmly  down  ou  the  waste  of  waters, 
looked  down  with  that  indescribable  cftect 
produced  by  its  light  upon  the  sea.     For, 
gazing  upon  it,  the  mind  stretches  out  to 
immense  tracts  of  ocean,  silvered  by  its  ra- 


38 


BEVKN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


(liancc,  where  never  a  Luiiian  soul  cntnlics 
tbe  bright  reflection,  where  the  roar  of  the 
waves,  or  the  shrieking  of  the  sea-birds 
alouo  breaks  in  upon  the  silence.  And  it 
conjures  np  lingo  wrecks,  once  pregnant 
with  hunmn  life,  dark,  dreary,  and  disman- 
tled ;  or  beholds,  in  fancy,  dead,  white  faces 
drifting  on  through  the  silver  haze,  heedless 
of  their  destination.  At  times  the  imagina- 
tion goes  still  farther,  flying  thence  to  that 
other  and  shoreless  sea — eternity — in  whoso 
roar  and  thunder,  whoso  awful  sights  and 
sensations,  whoso  gloom  and  brightness,  is 
lost  all  cognizance  of  earthly  things. 

None  of  these  considerations,  however,  en- 
tered into  Eyvind's  mind,  absorbed  as  ho 
■was  in  vain  dreams  of  days  and  people  for- 
ever departed  from  the  world  of  the  living. 


I 


ND  MAIB. 


6EVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIU. 


39 


iiiiian  soul  cntcbcs 

jro  tlio  roar  of  tbe 

of  tho  sea-birds 

0  sileueo.  And  it 
ks,  onco  pregnant 
reary,  and  diBnian- 
:,  dead,  wbito  faces 
ilvcr  liaze,  beedless 
times  tbo  imaginu- 
ing  tbonco  to  tbat 
Dternity — in  wlioso 

1  awfnl  sigbts  and 
and  brigbtness,  is 

tbly  tbings. 
.tions,  bovrever,  en- 
d,  absorbed  as  bo 
lys  and  people  for- 
orld  of  the  living. 


CIIAPTEK  III. 

"All.  who  CAU  M\y,  however  fair  his  view, 

Through  whal  end  ecenes  his  path  may  lie? 
Ah !  who  can  give  to  otlicr's  woes  his  bigh, 
Secure  his  owu  will  never  need  it  too. 

"  Let  thoughtless  youth  its  seeming  joys  pursue, 
Soon  will  it  learn  to  scan  with  thoughtful  eye 
The  Illusive  past  and  dark  futurity." 

H.  KlUKE  WUITE. 

TtiE  nioutbs  and  tbo  yiiars  flew  by  with 
wonderful  swiftness,  and,  like  one  running 
iu  tbo  gra-ss,  tinto  left  few  marks  on  tbo 
dwellers  of  tbat  stormy  ocean  isle.  Still  tbo 
morns  dawned  bright  and  fair;  still  tbo 
eves  fell  darkening  over  tbo  waters;  still 
tlio  sea-fogs  rose  as  soft  and  pnrpli.sb  ;  still 
tbo  many -tinted  clotids  formed  palaces  of 
light  and  shadow ;  still  tho  waves  lay  cool 
and  green,  catching  translncont  colors  from 
tbo  amber  snn  tbat  darted  its  fiery  arrows 
into  their  shell-lined  depths.  Still  tbo  old 
homo  of  tho  Udaller  stood  stern  ivnd  state- 
ly, bearing  no  perceptible  trace  of  tho  rest- 
less monarch's  handiwork ;  the  crevices  and 
ehiuk3,indecd,  might  have  been  to  an  observ- 


■tSW*??a'!ww«"' 


40 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIH. 


ing  eyo  more  plentiful  than  in  tho  days  gone 
by,  the  miUlow  niiglit  have  left  more  stains, 
or  tho  creepers  on  the  walls  grown  higher, 
and  interwoven  their  tendrils  more  closely 
with  tho  stony  heart  of  tho  old  building,  but 
it  still  gave  its  sturdy  detianco  to  time,  as  it 
had  done  through  the  generations  of  Norse- 
men who  liad  lived  and  died,  and  wooed  and 
wedded  within  its  walls,  npon  the  sea-girt 
shore  of  tho  Ultima  Thiile. 

The  Udaller  himself  was  still  halo  and 
hearty,  though,  like  his  sturdy  homo,  the 
mildew  of  old  ago  may  have  shadowed,  or 
the  creeping  growth  of  infirmity  have  twined 
its  tendrils  round  his  stanch  old  heart ;  but 
he  was  still  the  hospitable  host,  tho  generonS 
landlord,  tho  kind  master,  the  genial  friend 
of  years  before.  But  on  his  wife  the  foot- 
prints of  the  speeding  years  were  more  plain- 
ly visible ;  her  hair  w  is  almost  whitt),  her 
eyes  a  little  dimmed,  lur  step  a  little  slower, 
than  when  we  saw  her  tirst,  ten  years  be- 
fore, at  her  own  fireside.  Eric,  the  boyish 
di-eamer  of  tho  past,  was  tailor,  broader  in 
the  shoulders,  a  little  more  siibduod,  a  little 
less  impetuous.  The  boy  was  a  man,  but  a 
man  who  still  bore  tho  traces  of  bis  boyhood 
about  him.  Still  he  was  the  idol  of  his  peo- 
ple ;  still  he  was  the  darling  of  his  parents' 


lND  maib. 


SEVBK  YEAHS  ANU  MAIR. 


41 


an  in  tbo  days  gono 
vo  left  more  stains, 
alls  grow  11  higher, 
iidrils  more  closoly 
10  old  building,  but 
fianco  to  time,  as  it 
iierations  of  Norse- 
led,  and  vooed  and 
,  upon  the  sea-girt 

n-as  still  halo  and 
sturdy  home,  the 
have  shadowed,  or 
lirniity  have  twined 
nch  old  heart ;  but 
>  host,  the  generous 
p,  the  genial  friend 
his  wife  the  foot- 
rs  were  more  plnin- 
alniost  wliiti;,  her 
step  a  little  slower, 
tirst,  ten  years  be- 
Eric,  the  boyish 
\  taller,  broader  in 
re  siibdned,  a  little 
r  was  a  man,  but  a 
icos  of  his  boyhood 
the  idol  of  his  pee- 
ing of  his  parents' 


hearts.  His  mother,  with  maternal  solici- 
tude, had  chosen  him  a  wife,  one  who  dwelt 
in  a  neighboring  island,  a  pretty,  light-heart- 
ed girl,  with  u  tiiio  dowry  and  an  even  tem- 
per. Eric  saw  her  occasionally,  but  was  in 
no  hurry  to  woo  her;  ho  could  wait;  life 
was  long,  and  youth  was  bright.  Besides, 
his  darliug  wish  was  to  get  over  tbo  sea, 
and  visiu  foreign  lands.  Still,  as  the  girl 
was  by  no  means  ill-disposed,  and  could 
Ecarcely  conceal  her  delight  when  Eric  canio 
to  her  father's  house,  or  sho  visited  at  the 
IJdaller's  with  her  parents,  tbo  mother  did 
not  lose  hope :  and  if  circumstances  had  not 
interposed,  her  hopes  were  iu  a  fair  way  of 
being  realized. 

One  evening  in  early  winter,  Ingeride 
cnnio  with  her  jjarents  to  take  supper  at 
the  Udaller's  hospitable  board.  Some  other 
youths  and  maideus  had  conio  to  share  iu 
tho  merry-making,  and,  when  supjior  was 
over,  to  dance,  lugerido  was  dressed  1q 
her  most  becoming  costume ;  she  had  a  pret- 
ty, rosy  face,  a  trim  little  figure,  and  a  neat 
little  foot.  As  was  to  be  expected,  Erie  re- 
garded these  attractions  with  a  complacent 
eye,  and  IwjfOro  the  cfveniug  was  over  bad 
almost  made  up  his  mind  that  a  quiet  homo 
life  in  Foula  might,  under  certain  circum- 


42 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


stances, be  tolorably  happy.  Acting  on  this 
belief,  Eric  devoted  hiinst-lf  to  itbo  girl,  and 
to  such  an  extent  that  the  respective  par- 
ents rejoiced  exceedingly,  and  already  began 
to  hoar  in  anticipation  the  sound  of  Eric's 
wedding -bells.  Farther  off  were  the  bells 
than  they  imagined — so  far  ofl',  indeed,  that 
scarce  an  echo  could  have  reached  their  lis- 
tening ears. 

Eric  had  well-nigh  decided  to  try  his  fate 
that  night;  and  such  was  his  boyish  conceit 
that  ho  had  little  fear  of  failure.  She  blush- 
ed so  prettily  when  he  drew  near ;  she  smiled 
so  coquettishly ;  she  gave  him  such  bewitch- 
ing glances  out  of  her  soft,  dark  eyes,  that 
his  heart  beat  high  willi  gratilied  vanity, 
which  ho  readily  mistook  fi(r  a  wanner  sen- 
timent. When  the  festivities  were  over, 
ho  accompanied  Ingeride  and  her  parents  a 
part  of  the  way  home.  As  the  parents  very 
naturally  left  the  young  people  to  them- 
selves, Eric  was  on  tho  point  of  putting 
his  thouglits  into  words,  and  deciding  his 
future  fate,  when,  like  a  message  from  afar, 
he  felt  A  breath  of  the  salt  sea  -  air.  Tho 
message  was  heeded;  it  awoke  in  him  the 
old  longings  to  leave  the  island,  the  old  de- 
sire to  Avander,  and  the  decisive  words  were 
left  unsaid.     Ho  argued  with  himself  that 


IEB!ikl«»»'' 


JND  MAIR. 

)y.  A<!ting  on  tliia 
n'lf  to  itlio  Rirl,  aud 
tlio  respective  par- 
,  and  a^  ready  began 
;lio  sor.nd  of  Eric's 
•  off  were  the  bells 
far  off,  indeed,  that 
e  reached  their  lis- 

jided  to  try  his  fate 
8  his  boyish  conceit 
failure.  Slie  blnsh- 
;wnear;  she  smiled 
3  him  ench  bewitch- 
oft,  dark  eyes,  that 
h  gratified  vanity, 
c  for  a  warmer  een- 
tivities  were  over, 
)  and  her  parents  u 
\a  the  parents  verj' 
g  people  to  them- 
)  point  of  putting 
I,  and  deciding  his 
message  from  afar, 
salt  sea -air.  Tho 
awoke  in  hint  the 
)  island,  the  old  de- 
lecisive  words  were 
I  v.-ith  himself  that 


SEVEK  YKARfl  AND  MAIU. 


43 


there  was  plenty  of  time  to  say  them;  then 
he  might  take  a  short  voyage  over  tho  ocean, 
return  to  marry  his  old  sweetheart,  and  set- 
tle down  for  good  and  iiyo  in  the  homo  of 
his  fathers;  but  just  to-night  ho  would  be 
free;  it  would  bo  time  enough;  ho  Avould 
leave  it  till  to-morrow.  And  so  ho  saw  not 
tho  many  morrows  that  would  come  and  go 
before  ho  brought  his  brido  to  the  homo  of 
tho  Uilallei-.s. 

As  ho  was  returning,  absorbed  in  these 
thoughts,  ho  was  suddenly  aroused  by  the 
sound  of  voices — angry  voices,  too,  they 
seemed  to  be— as  of  men  disputing.  Ho  lis- 
tened; tho  sounds  camo  from  tho  direction 
of  tho  cliff,  lie  heard  an  oath,  a  blow,  aud 
waited  for  no  more.  Without  pausing  to 
reflect  that  ho  was  alone  and  nnavmcd,  ho 
hastened  toward  iho  crags,  thinking  that 
some  one  might  require  his  assistance.  A 
sudden  turn  of  tho  rocky  path  brought  him 
in  full  view  of  tho  combatants.  To  his 
surprise,  ho  saw  Eyvind  defending  himself 
bravely  against  three  or  fonr  burly  men, 
whom  ho  knew  to  belong  to  a  class  between 
fishermen  and  pirates,  who  were  justly  es- 
teemed as  tho  most  lawless  and  desperate 
characters  on  the  island.  He  waited  for  no 
more,  bnt,  leaping  down  from  crag  to  crag 


SEVEN  YEAB8  AND  MAIR. 

with  recl<lp88  daring,  called  upon  tliom  to 
desist.  The  men  i^iused  a  moment,  but  see- 
ing a  solitary  lignro  approaching,  tliey  re- 
nowod  tlio  attack;  then  Eric,  leaping  on  to 
the  beacli,  strnck  a  blow  with  his  stick 
which  fulled  the  tirst  of  the  assailants  to  the 
eartli. 

"  Cowardly  wretches!"  ho  cried,  as  the  oth- 
ers stood  irrescduto,  "I  will  teach  you  to  at- 
tack a  defenseless  man." 

As  he  spoke  ho  aimed  a  blow  at  the  head 
of  another,  who  seemed  to  bo  the  leader  of 
the  party.  The  man  endeavored  to  defend 
himself,  while  Eyviiid  kept  his  companions 
engaged.  Tlie  conflict  was  short  and  sharp. 
Two  of  the  ruthans  were  soon  stretched 
nponthe  ground.  Eyvind,  in  his  deadly  rage, 
would  have  served  the  other  two  in  a  similar 
manner;  but  Eric  interposed. 

"Take  your  comrades,"  he  said,  "and 
leave  the  spot;  and  the  sooner  tiie  better, 
unless  yon  want  to  feel  the  weight  of  my 
stick  as  they  have  done." 

The  men  slowly  and  sullenly  obeyed ;  but 
as  they  went,  bearing  their  insensible  com- 
panions, one  of  them  turned  and  said,  with 
a  look  of  hate  and  rage  so  fierce  that  even 
Erii  s  dauntless  soul  was  for  the  moment 
dismayed, 


HftSBSSffi?-- 


ND  MAIR. 

lied  upon  thorn  to 
a  nioineiit,  but  Boe- 
iroacLluff,  they  re- 
Eric,  h>ai>ii)g  on  to 
iw  with  his  Bticlc 
[io  assailants  to  the 

lio  criuil,  ns  tlio  oth- 
ill  teach  you  to  at- 

a  blow  at  tlio  head 
;o  bo  tho  leader  of 
ileavored  to  defend 
ipt  his  coin|)anions 
as  short  and  sharp, 
ire  soon  stretched 
I,  in  his  deadly  rage, 
lior  two  ill  a  similar 
)8ed. 

8,"  ho  said,  "  and 
sooner  tlie  bettor, 
tho  wei)j;ht  of  my 

llonly  obeyed ;  but 
eir  insensible  com- 
•ned  and  said,  with 
80  fierce  that  even 
18  for  tho  luomout 


BBVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIH. 


45 


"Wo  know  you,  Eric,  sou  of  O^pak.  Be- 
tween your  race  and  ours  has  been  bitter 
feud;  but  you'll  rue  this  night's  work,  as 
you  never  rued  work  before." 

"  Hraggurt  and  bully  t"  said  Eiic,  laughing 
scornfully, "  I  defy  you  and  your  cowardly 
crew." 

"  May  tho  ravens  have  feast  of  yon,  proud 
scorner!  may  tho  fishes  of  the  sea  feed  on 
your  vitals !"  cried  the  man,  with  deadly  ma- 
ilgiiity. 

"  Take  care  that  this  stick  does  not  light 
upon  your  head,"  said  Eric,  laughing.  But 
a  chill  crept  over  him,  nevertheless,  at  the 
ghostliuess  of  tho  scene,  tho  sinister  mean- 
ing of  tho  man's  face,  his  weird  and  awful 
threats;  ntu-,  when  the  men  had  glided  out 
of  sight  behind  tho  rocks,  did  it  reassure 
him  to  turn  to  his  companion.  Ey  vind's  face 
was  livid;  his  eyos  burning  witii  so  intense 
an  exiiression  of  anger  and  malignity  that 
Eric  almost  feared  he  had  lost  his  niiud ;  his 
long  black  hair  was  wihl  and  dishovolled; 
blood  was  ooziug  from  a  wound  in  his  head ; 
his  teeth  were  sot,  his  hands  clenched.  A 
sort  of  horror  stole  over  Eric.  This  com- 
panion and  friend  of  his  daily  life  seemed 
changed  into  tho  evil  genius  of  tho  scone. 
Mastering  his  feelings  with  an  efllort,  Erie 


4G 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIIl. 


laid  Ihh  liaiid  <iii  his  fi  iciul'H  Hlumldpr.  "  Ey- 
viiid,"  lio  Hrtid,  "  rouso  yourself.  Tlioso  ineu 
uiuy  return,  and  tlio  night  i»  fur  spent." 

lu  answer,  Eyvind  burst  into  i\  storm  of 
rnRo  iiKainst  his  recent  assailants.  Ho  told 
liovv  he  had  found  tlioni  stealing  the  boat, 
Jiatl  interposed,  with  the  results  Kric  had  wit- 
nessed. Vehemently  and  ims»i()nately,lio  .'C- 
pcated  the  foul  epithets  tlicy  had  used,  do- 
scribed  the  blows  ho  had  received,  and  the 
efforts  ho  had  made  to  defend  himself. 

"  You  aro  wounded,"  said  Eric ;  "  and  that 
is  another  reason  you  must  get  home." 

He,  however,  found  great  dillieulty  in 
calming  him,  or  persuading  him  to  return 
to  the  lint,  whither  Eric  accompanied  him. 
When  they  arrived  there,  the  maniac  was 
crouching,  as  usual,  beside  tho  embers. 
Eric's  appearance  at  ouco  excited  her.  She 
rose,  and  rushing  over,  gazed  long  and  ear- 
nestly into  his  face. 

"  Fair  and  tall  and  beautiful ;  but  he's  not 
tho  one,"  sho  muttered.  "Come  out  upon 
tho  Loire!"  sho  added,  with  n  wild  siiriek : 
'• '  La  lune  6clairo  I'eau  pure.' 

"  'Ohnntez,  nin  Mar^nerlto, 
La  luiie  ticliiirc  I'eaa  pure' 

"  Oh,  how  the  wind  roars  and  rushes  in 


■UA! 


«D  MAin. 

'h  Hlidulilpr.  "  Ey- 
irwjlf.  TIkimo  moil 
i  is  fur  speiit." 
st  into  1%  Htorm  of 
8iiilnnt8.  Ho  told 
stoiiliiin  tlio  l)oat., 
^HiiltH  Kiic  liad  wit- 
imssioii!itoly,lie  ro- 
tlicy  liiul  UHc(l,dc- 
1  received,  and  the 
fond  liiiuneif. 
id  Kric ;  "  iind  that 
it  get  Iionie." 
;reat  ditllenlty  in 
inn  ''ini  to  return 
nec(un|>anied  liini. 
0,  tlie  maniac  was 
isido  tlio  embers. 
1  excited  lier.  Sho 
azed  long  and  ear- 

iitifnl;  bnt  lie's  not 
"Come  ont  npon 
itli  a  wild  shriek: 
uro.' 

i»r<;iierlto, 
I'eau  pare.' 

oars  and  rushes  in 


SEVEN  YEAIIS  AND  MAIR. 


47 


my  brain!"  sho  cried,  in  her  native  tongue. 
"  It'a  too  stormy  a  night  for  tlio  Loire." 

AHtonishniont  and  a  sort  of  superstitions 
awo  cair.e  over  Eric,  lie  had  n(!ver  soon  tlie 
erazy  woman  except  in  her  mildest  moments. 
What  strange  fortune,  lus  thought,  brought 
him  into  (dose  companioiiHhip  with  beings 
HO  wild  and  weird  ns  these!  He  glanced  at 
Kyvind,  and  saw  him  sitting,  ghastly  pulo 
and  motionless,  upon  a  stool,  his  head  rest- 
ing against  the  wall,  and  blood  trickling 
slowly  down  his  face.  Eric,  going  over,  ex- 
amined tho  wound;  as  ho  did  so,  the  mn- 
iiiac  raised  her  head,  and,  attracted  by  tho 
sight  of  blood,  or  by  some  assoeiatiou  of 
ideas,  rose  furiously,  aud  rushed  over  to  tho 
spot. 

"  lUood !"  sho  cried,  frantically ;  "  did  yon 
kill  him  f  Did  you  dye  his  golden  hair  dark 
with  blood  f  Wack-hoarted  stranger,  did 
yon  dare  to  kill  him  f  Curses  fall  upon  your 
head!  Oh.  my  beautiful,  my  goldou-bair- 
ed —     Cm. SOS !  curses!  curses!" 

As  sli(>  spoke,  sho  raised  herself  to  her  full 
height,  her  dark  face  ghastly  and  distorted, 
till, exhausted  by  the  frenzy,  sho  sankdowu 
npon  tho  floor.  A  moment  after  sho  feebly 
raised  her  head,  calling  to  Erie  in  a  low, 
plaintive  voice, 


fmvsKwhiJm 


48 


8EVRN  YKAR8  AND  MAIH. 


"  C'efit  ta  Mnr«uorlto,  qui  t'alniu !     Vious, 
dour,  (|iiVll<!  t'oiiibrotwo." 

Mi'iiinvliilc,  Eric,  overcoming  liis  boubo  of 
horror  ami  aliirni,  <lre»8eil  Eyviiid'H  wound, 
and  biitlii'd  IdH  fiico  with  wator  till  ho  ro- 
vlvcil.    Then  ho  laid  him  on  IiIh  couch,  and 
watched  bcsido  him  till  tho  day  dawned. 
By  that  time  Eyviud  was  in  a  burning  lo- 
ver, and  as  Erie  prepared  to  go  home,  ho  de- 
termined not  to  leave  him  to  tho  nncertaiu 
l.ioodH  of  tho  maniac,  but  to  send  Hon\o  ono 
thither  to  watch  beside  him.    When  ho  miw 
lum  tolerably  (luiet,  ho  left  him  ;  and,  wea- 
ried with  his  long  vigil,  walked  slowly  home- 
ward along  tho  crags,  enjoying  tho  freshneBS 
of  tho  sea-breeze.     On  his  way  he  mot  sev- 
eral of  tho  Islanders,  and,  as  ho  ubHently  ro- 
turned  their  greetings, did  not  observe  their 
Btare  of  OHtonishment.     He  had  forgotten 
tlwc  his  clothes,  as  well  as  his  hands,  and 
ovou  his  face,  were  stained  with  blood ;  and 
this,  coupled  with  his  worn  and  haggard  face, 
govo  rise  to  considerable  conut  „»t  from  tho 
passoi-s-by.     When  ho  reached  home,  ho 
laughed  at  his  forgotfulness,  and  changing 
his  clothes,  proceeded  to  the  village  to  find 
Bomo  one  willing  to  take  caro  of  Eyvind 
during  his  illness.    This  was  no  easy  mat- 
ter.   One  and  all  of  tho  village  womou  de- 


oli 
th 
he 
in 
ui 
to 

vn 
th 
pc 
sti 
ail 
al 
foi 
In 
ti( 
pc 
rit 
oil 


,ND  MAIR. 

|ul  t'alnio !    Vloua, 

nniinK  I'i**  boiibo  of 
d  Kyviiid'n  wound, 
U  wiitor  till  ho  ro- 
ll on  liiH  condi,  mid 
I  tlio  duy  tlawiiod. 
AH  ill  a  buniing  fo- 

I  to  go  lionio,  lio  d«- 
,iu  to  the  niicertaiii 
it  to  MMid  miino  one 
liini.  Wlion  lio  Biiw 
left  liiin  ;  und,  woa- 
k'nlki.'d  Hlowly  honie- 
joyingtlio  tVcHhiii'SS 
lia  way  lio  mot  hov- 
1,  ns  ho  abucntly  ro- 
lid  not  obscivo their 

Ho  had  forgotten 

II  m  his  hnmlH,  and 
led  with  blood;  and 
irn  and  hag};"''!  fi^ce, 
e  connt~,,U  from  tho 
>  roaclied  home,  ho 
ilncsH,  and  ehanging 
n  the  villnp>  to  Ihid 
nko  caro  of  Eyvind 
is  was  no  easy  ni^t- 
0  village  women  de- 


BEVBK  YEAnS  AND  MAIll. 


49 


clarcd  that  no  iiowor  on  earth  could  indnco 
them  to  enter  that  accursed  den.  At  lust 
ho  found  an  old  (iroiie,  who  was  herself  hold 
in  doubtful  roinite  by  the  islanders,  and  who, 
niub'r  proiiiiso  of  a  lilieral  reward,  consoutod 
to  take  caro  of  Kyviiid. 

8o  far  all  was  well;  but  ont  of  all  this 
various  rumors  began  to  gain  ground  among 
tho  peoide.  The  story  of  Krie's  si  range  ap- 
pearaiuvi  when  seen  at  early  dawn,  tho  blood- 
stains on  his  garments,  and  his  confused 
and  agitated  expression  of  face,  was  baudiod 
about  from  mouth  to  mouth,  gaining  now 
features  as  it  wont;  to  whicli  tho  old  crouo 
in  charge  of  Eyvind  added  tho  further  par- 
ticidars,  that,  whenever  Eric  made  his  ap- 
pearance at  the  hut,  the  maniuo  became  fu- 
rious, and  invariably  pointing  to  tho  wound 
on  her  son's  head  with  violent  gesticulation, 
poured  out  what  scorned  to  bo  a  torrent  of 
abuse. 

So  it  began  to  bo  whispered  about  that 
Eric  had  soiP^ht  the  '  ■  to  of  his  singular  com- 
pauion ;  and  various  circumstances  wero 
brought  forward  to  prove  that  they  had 
quarrelled,  and  that  Eric  had  for  a  long 
time  pondered  Iiis  scheme  of  vengeance. 
Some  pitied  tho  handsome  favorite,  some 
censured  him  severely,  but  nearly  all  bo- 


60 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


lieved  the  story.  It  was  adduced,  in  sup- 
port of  tho  riinior,  that  a  stranger  who  bad 
witnessed  tho  stvusgle  between  them  bud 
appeared  in  tbo  village,  and  given  Ins  ac- 
count of  it  with  every  detail.  This  was,  in 
fact  the  case— one  of  tho  men  of  tho  caves, 
as  they  were  called,  having  taken  advantage 
of  tho  suspicions  rife  in  tbo  village  to  at- 
tain bis  dastardly  revenge. 

Meantime  Evyind  lay  unconscious  of  ev- 
erything, and  it  was  feared  that  reason  won M 
never  return  to  him.     Ho  raved  in  a  wild 
delirium,  and  tossed  about  and  moaned,  con- 
sumed by  a  burning  fever.     Eric  was  un- 
wearied in  his  attendance  upon  him;  but 
to  the  people  this  was  only  a  proof  ot  bis 
remorse.    For  some  time  Eric  bad  no  ink- 
ling of  tho  truth.     lie  observed  that  people 
greeted  bim  coldly,  or  did  not  greet  him  at 
all,  and  that  sonio  who  still  greeted  him  as 
of  yore  bad  a  look  of  reproach  or  sadness 
on  their  faca  that  be  could  not  understand. 
He  supposed  that  bis  intimacy  with  Eyvind 
had  produced  its  natural  result,  and  did  not 
allow  himself  to  grieve  over  it.     It  never 
occurred  to  him  that  such  a  crime  as  the  at- 
tempted murder  of  his  friend  could  bo  im- 
puted to  him,  and  that  by  the  very  people 
who  BO  lately  held  bim  as  au  idol.     The 


lND  MAIR. 

18  adduced,  in  siip- 
i  stranger  who  bad 
between  tbem  bud 
,  and  given  his  nc- 
Btail.  This  was,  in 
e  men  of  the  cavea, 
ug  taken  advantage 
1  the  village  to  at- 
ge. 

unconscious  of  ev- 
;d  that  reason  would 
Ho  raved  in  a  wild 
ut  and  moaned,  con- 
iver.  Eric  was  uu- 
nco  upon  bim;  but 

only  a  proof  of  bis 
lie  Eric  bad  no  iuk- 
ibservcd  that  people 
lid  not  greet  bim  at 

still  greeted  bim  as 
reproach  or  sadness 
)uld  not  undei-stand. 
itimacy  with  Ey  vind 
al  result,  and  did  not 
e  over  it.  It  never 
icb  a  crime  as  the  at- 
,  friend  could  bo  im- 
t  by  the  very  people 
m  as  au  idol.     The 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


51 


tnitli  camo  to  him  like  a  lightning- flash. 
Then,  full  of  passionate  indignation,  bnt  too 
proud  to  give  it  vent,  ho  grew  silent  and 
taciturn,  shunning  even  the  faithful  few 
who  would  still  have  met  him  with  the  old 
friendliness.  This  gave  confirmation  to  the 
dark  reports  against  him,  and  even  his  tni- 
cst  friends  began  to  shako  their  heads  and 
say  that  only  the  haunting  shadow  of  some 
great  crime  could  have  so  changed  bis  sun- 
ny nature.  Eric's  mother  wept  in  silence, 
and  plainly  declared  that  her  dark  forebod- 
ing had  been  too  soon  and  too  sadly  realized. 
The  fond  parents  bad  another  source  of 
anxiety  :  the  lawless  buccaneers  who  dwelt 
in  caves  at  the  remotest  corner  of  the  island, 
and  there  carried  on  their  wicked  calling, 
bad  been  heard  to  utter  ominous  threats  of 
vengeance  .ipon  Eric,  for,  in  fostering  tbo 
germ  of  suspicion  and  didtrust  among  Eric's 
neighbors,  they  had  bnt  begun  their  revenge. 
Gradually  the  Udaller  and  bis  wife  were 
forced  co  the  sad  conviction  that  the  safest 
and  wisest  course  would  be  to  carry  out 
their  son's  favorite  scheme,  and  allow  him 
to  leave  Fonla.  They  saw  how  the  boy  suf- 
fered, and  the  effects  his  suffering  bad  pro- 
duced, and  their  hearts  were  wrung.  Hav- 
ing come  to  this  conclusion,  they  determined 


I_! — 


W"^ 


53 


SEVEN  YEAHS  AND  MAIR. 


to  speak  of  it  to  Eric,  mentally  picturing  bis 
joy  aud  gratitude.  So,  ouo  ovouing,  they  sat 
by  the  liresido  and  waited  for  bis  coming. 
The  mother  sat  pale  aud  quiet,  aud  as  tbo 
Udaller  watched  her  attentively,  ho  thought 
be  saw  a  tear  fall  on  her  dark  gowu ;  bis 
own  eyes  grew  dini,  for  well  ho  knew  that 
the  shattered  renniauts  of  a  mother's  day- 
dream had  caused  those  tears.  Ho  could 
follow  her  thoughts  back  through  the  long 
years  that  she  had  scon  bor  boy  the  idol  of 
bis  people,  aud  had  prophesied  for  him  a  fut- 
ure of  love  and  honor  beside  the  bearthstouo 
of  bis  fathers,  when  the  two  old  people  who 
sat  there,  lovingly  making  plans  for  him, 
would  have  stolen  away,  each  in  turn,  to 
tbo  church-yard  aud  to  quiet  graves,  in  the 
shadow  of  ancestral  tombstones. 

At  last  they  heard  Eric's  step  at  the  door, 
beard  it  cross  the  threshold,  aud  presently 
saw  bim  enter  the  room. 

"  It  is  a  cheerless  night,"  said  his  mother, 
making  tbo  same  remark  as  once  before, 
when  all  the  world  was  bright  to  him. 

"It  is  indeed, mother,"  said  Eric, wearily, 
"  and  I  am  glad  to  get  home." 

"  Does  Ey  vind  continue  the  same  f "  asked 
the  mother,  anxiously. 

"  The  same,"  said  Eric ;  "  there  seems  to  bo 


^■i^ 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


53 


:D  MAIR. 

;ally  picturing  Lis 
I  eveuing,  tbey  sat 
il  for  Lis  coming, 
quiet,  and  as  the 
lively,  LotLougLt 
r  ilark  gown;  Lis 
roll  Lo  knew  tbat 
f  a  raotlicr's  day- 
tears.  Ho  could 
tbrongli  tbo  long 
or  boy  tbo  idol  of 
ssied  for  Lima  fut- 
ile tbo  Leartbstono 
,vo  old  people  who 
ig  plans  for  him, 
,  each  in  turn,  to 
uiet  graves,  in  the 
stones. 

's  step  at  the  door, 
lold,  and  presently 

i,"  said  Lis  mother, 
k  as  once  before, 
right  to  him. 
said  Eric,  wearily, 
me." 
B  the  same  T"  asked 

"  there  secras  to  bo 


no  change  from  day  to  day,  and  I  fear,  poor 
fellow,  he  is  doomed  to  share  his  mother'n 
fate." 

"And  you,  my  poor  boy !"  said  the  mother, 
gently,  "  what  is  to  become  of  you  if  he  nev- 
er recovers  bis  reason  f" 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Eric,  drearily;  "I 
suppose  I  will  drag  out  my  life  some  way." 

"You  shall  not,  my  son,"  said  tbo  mother, 
warmly ;  "  your  father  and  I  have  talked  the 
matter  over,  and  have  decided  to  let  you  have 
yonr  will  and  leave  Foula  for  a  few  years." 

For  one  moment  Eric's  face  brightened. 
Then  he  shook  Ills  head;  he  did  not  say, 
"  Your  kiiulnoss  comes  too  late,"  bnt  the  look 
on  bis  face  plainly  expressed  it. 

"I  thank  you  both  from  my  heart,"  ho 
said;  "but  it  cannot  be — just  now,  at  lea«t. 
I  can  never  leave  Fonla  with  a  tainted  name. 
When  my  innocence  is  proved,  and  my  name 
again  above  reproach,  then — " 

He  sighed,  and  did  not  fliiisV. 

"  I  once  fondly  dreamed,"  be  began  again, 
with  a  bitter  laugh, "  tbat,  as  an  honorable 
gentleman,  I  stood  where  suspicion  could 
not  reach  me ;  yet  they  have  dared  to  sus- 
pect me  of  a  crime  too  base  for  the  basest  of 
them — a  cowardly,  loathsome  deed." 

"  Do  not  think  of  that,  my  boy,"  said  the 


54 


SEV15N  YEAB8  AND  MAIH. 


luotlior.  "  Go  awny  till  yon  liavo  recovered 
your  health  niul  spirits.  Your  imiiio  will  bo 
cleared  uoue  the  less  certainly  or  speedily 
for  yonr  absence." 

"  It  is  useless  to  talk  of  it,  dear,  kind  moth- 
er," he  said ;  "  I  cannot  go  till  I  staud  as  I 
Btood  before." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  said  the  mother, 
Bighing ;  "  it  might  be  construed  into  a  tacit 
ackuowledgnieut  of  guilt." 

"  By  my  honor,  ho  is  right !"  said  the  Udal- 
ler,  bringing  down  his  fist  on  the  arm  of  the 
chair.  "  An  honest  man  will  never  run  away 
when  there  is  danger  to  bo  met,  or  sorrow  to 
1)6  borne." 

"  Thauk  you,  father,"  said  Eric,  quietly ; 
and  then  there  was  silence. 

After  supper  had  been  served,  Eric  went 
out,  and,  passing  along  the  old  familiar  way 
over  the  crags,  came  to  the  hut.  Eyvind's 
mother  sat  in  her  usual  place,  but  neither 
spoke  nor  stirred  when  ho  euteicd.  The  old 
crone  from  tlio  village  was  keeping  watch 
beside  tlie  coucli,  wliero  Eyvind  seemed  to 
he  sleeping.  Erie  bent  over  him,  and  lis- 
tened to  his  breathing:  it  was  gentle  and 
regular,  like  that  of  a  person  in  full  health. 
The  sleeper's  face  was  painfnlly  emaciated, 
his  eyes  sunken,  his  hair  unkempt.    Eric  sat 


P' 


1 


mmam 


KD  MAIK. 

r'ou  liavo  recovered 
Your  iiiiino  will  bo 
•taiiily  or  speedily 

it,  dear,  kind  motb- 
^o  till  I  Htaud  aa  I 

fc,"  said  tlio  inotbor, 
iistrued  into  a  tacit 

btr'saidtboUdal- 
t  on  tlio  arm  of  tbo 
vill  never  run  away 
10  met,  or  sorrow  to 

said  Eric,  r[uietly; 
!e. 

I  served,  Eric  went 

10  old  familiar  way 

tbo  Imt.     Eyvind'a 

idace,  but  ueitber 

0  eute.cd.    Tbo  old 

vas  keeping  watch 

Eyvind  seemed  to 

over  bim,  and  lis- 

it  waa  gentle  and 

irson  in  full  bealtb. 

aiiifiiUy  emaciated, 

unkempt.    Eric  sat 


SEVEN  YKATW  AND  MAIR. 


55 


down,  and  looked  at  bim  long  and  intently; 
but  when  tbo  crouo  ottered  to  get  a  candle, 
be  made  a  basty  gesture  of  dissent,  satisfied 
witb  tbe  imperfect  ligbt  of  tbo  tiro.  Tliou 
tlio  room  was  silent ;  tbero  was  a  faint,  rest- 
less moaning  of  the  sea  witbout,  a  geiitlo 
plasbing  of  tbo  waves  against  tbo  rocks — for 
tbo  tide  was  low  —  aud  a  sobbing  sound  of 
tbo  wind  among  tbo  rocks;  but  tbeso  were 
familiar  sounds  to  tbose  wbo  dwelt  near  t!io 
water,  and  tho  bearers  were  scarcely  con- 
scious of  tbcni. 

How  long  bo  bad  sat  tbero  Eric  could  not 
precisely  toll;  but  it  seemed  to  bim  abont 
midnigbt  when  bo  saw  a  cbaugo  on  tbo 
sleeper's  face.  As  be  bent  still  nciuer,  Ey- 
vind opened  bis  eyes,  and,  for  tbo  first  time 
in  many  weeks,  Ibere  was  a  gleam  of  iiitolli- 
geiico  in  tbem. 

"Erie,"  said  be,  clearly  and  distinctly, 
though  faintly,  "  wbero  am  I,ob!  where  am 

ir 

"  You  are  at  homo,"  answered  Eric,  sup- 
pressing all  signs  of  bis  own  deep  emotion. 

"At  liomef"  said  Eyvind,  while  Eric  lis- 
tened breathlessly ;  "biitob!  Ibavobeonso 
far  away,  and  seen  so  many  strange  faces!" 

"  But  you  aro  at  homo  now,  and  Avith  me," 
said  Eric,  soothingly. 


56 


8KVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


"Why  are  you  licroT  And  wliy  ixni  I  in 
bed!"  said  Eyviiid,  with  tliat  distinct  utter- 
nuco  BO  often  noticeable  in  jicoplo  recovering 
from  doliriniu. 

"  You  wore  a  little  hurt,"  answered  Eric. 

"Hnrt?"  said  he,  woudorin^jly ;  then  he 
•was  silent  for  several  moments. 

"  I  remember  now,"  ho  said  ;  "  fonr  men  at- 
tacked mo,  and  yon  saved  mo  at  the  risk  of 
yonr  lifn.  Tlien  you  bronght  mo  homo  and 
dressed  my  wound,  and — "  ho  closed  his  eyes 
wearily,  but  murmured,  "  oh  yes,  I  remem- 
ber." 

Eric  was  inwardly  raising  hia  heart  in 
thanksgiving  to  God.  The  crone  was  all 
on  tho  alert;  she  had  got  a  clue  to  the 
whole  affair,  and  would  hasten  to  spread  it 
among  the  village  gossips.  Eric  at  last  was 
fully  justified,  unless  Eyvind  relapsed  into 
unconsciousness ;  then  his  explanation  of 
the  matter  might  bo  considered  as  tho  con- 
fused wanderings  of  his  delirious  fancy.  Eric 
remained  with  him  till  morning,  and  left  him 
perfectly  restored  to  conjoiousness.  Then 
he  rnshed  home,  and  throw  himself  into  his 
mother's  arms  in  such  a  transport  of  joy  that 
it  alarmed  her. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  whon  he  had  told 
his  story,  "  I  shall  bo  free  to  leave  Foula — 


\ 


mmti 


rO  MAIR. 

And  why  nin  I  in 
iiU  distinct  uttor- 
pooplo  recovering 

"  answered  Eric. 
lorini;ly ;  then  he 
lonts. 

lid  ;  "  fonr  men  at- 
nio  at  tlio  risli  of 
ght  nio  home  and 
he  closed  his  ieyes 
oh  yes,  I  remem- 

sing  his  heart  in 
he  croiio  wap  all 
;ot  a  cluo  to  the 
asten  to  spread  it 
,  Erie  at  last  was 
'ind  relapsed  into 
is  explanation  of 
idered  as  the  cou- 
lirious  fancy.  Eric 
rniug,  and  left  him 
jciousnesa.  Then 
\v  himself  into  his 
lusport  of  joy  that 

Then  he  had  told 
I  to  leave  Foula — 


SEVKN  YEAHS  AND  MAIR. 


67 


to  leave  it  with  only  one  regret,  that  of 
parting  witli  yon  and  my  father. " 

Ho  spolve  with  snt'li  a  stern  joy,  wholly 
iipart  from  llie  boyish  ]tleiisiire  wherewith 
hu  wonld  oneo  have  hailed  his  approaching 
departure,  tlmt  the  mother's  heart  was  trou- 
bled. She  saw  that  the  d-^T)  springs  of  his 
nature  had  been  jarred  bj  the  cruel  wrong 
and  injustice  done  him;  aird  s'.uj  know,  with 
a  mother's  instinct,  that  his  old,  frank  trust- 
fulness could  return  no  more. 

The  news  soon  spread  through  the  village, 
and  exaggerated  accounts  were  rife  of  Eric's 
bravo  delenso  of  his  friend.  Tlie  villagers, 
so  lately  cold  and  distrustful  toward  him, 
Hew  to  tlie  opposite  extreme,  lie  was  placed 
on  a  higher  pedestal  than  over  before,  and 
raised  to  a  greater  height  in  popular  esti- 
mation. Ho  received  their  adulation  with 
a  proud  coldness,  which  told  how  deeply 
their  injurious  suspicions  had  touched  his 
sensitive  heart.  From  that  time  forth  he 
had  but  one  desire — to  leave  the  island,  and 
tind  himself  far  from  the  tickle  and  ungrate- 
ful islanders.  So,  as  dawn  succeeded  night, 
and  eve  tiio  brightness  of  the  noonday ;  as 
the  high  tides,  with  turbulent  roar, followed 
the  deceitful  calm  of  the  ebb,  his  prepara- 
tions for  departure  were  being  completed; 


n 


58 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAin. 


and  at  Inst  tlio  dny  cnmo.  Out  upon  tlio 
greoii  waters  lay  the  vessel  that  was  to  boar 
Eric  away ;  on  tlio  slioro  stood  an  eager 
crowd  to  bid  liini  godspeed.  Ho  was  paler 
than  usual,  but  his  manner  was  cahn  and 
composed.  Ho  listened  to  tho  good  wishes 
of  the  people  with  an  indilVeronee  that  show- 
ed plainly  how  littlo  ho  prized  them  ;  yet  ho 
spoke  courteously  to  each  and  all.  Only  to 
one  or  two  among  tho  number  did  his  fare- 
well grow  warm,  his  eyes  misty,  and  his 
hand -shako  cordial.  Eyvind  had  stolen 
out,  still  wan  and  feeble;  ho  parted  from 
his  friend  and  comrade  in  an  agouy  of  pas- 
sionate grief. 

"Only  for  your  mother,"  said  Eric,  "wo 
two  should  never  have  parted.  As  it  is,  if 
ever  you  are  free,  I  will  send  for  you.  Will 
you  como,  Eyvind  t" 

"As  Heaven  is  witness,"  said  Eyvind,  sol- 
emnly, "oven  if  it  bo  to  tho  ends  of  tho 
earth." 

It  was  time  for  Erie  to  ascend  tho  vessel's 
side.  He  turned  to  liis  father  and  mother. 
They  showed  their  gentle  blood  and  ancient 
descent,  as  they  stood,  sorrowful  and  digni- 
fied, tinged  with  the  gloom  that  was  to  fall 
on  the  ancestral  home  of  tho  Udallers  when 
tbo  heir  of  their  race  was  gone.    Eric  wrung 


h 
ii 
1 
I'i 
o 
1» 

V 

y 

tl 

SI 
SI 

y 
t 

ii 
s 
a 
a 
a 
II 
h 
h 
li 


'iD  MAIR. 

0.  Out  upon  tlio 
il  tliat  wfts  to  boar 
o  Btood  an  eager 
n\.  IIo  wiiH  paler 
ler  was  calm  and 
o  tlio  good  \vinlu's 
I'eronce  Unit  sliow- 
'izod  them  ;  yet  ho 

and  nil.  Only  to 
mlier  did  his  lare- 
eH  misty,  and  h'm 
yvind  Inid  stolen 
;   lie  i)artcd  from 

an  agony  of  pas- 

•,"  said  Eric,  "  wo 
irted.  As  it  is,  if 
nd  for  yon.     Will 

'  said  Eyvind,8ol- 
tho  ends  of  tUo 

iscend  tlio  vessel's 
ithcr  and  mother, 
blood  and  ancient 
I'owfnl  and  digni- 
n  that  was  to  fall 
ho  Udallors  when 
jouo.    Eric  wrung 


SEVEN  YEAltS  A>'D  MAIR. 


HflBM 


50 


his  father's  hand,  looked  long  and  lovingly 
into  his  face,  then  tnrned  to  his  mother. 
The  keenness  of  her  grief  was  visible  on  her 
face,  bnt  she  would  not  weep  nor  give  any 
outward  sign  of  emotion  in  presence  of  tbo 
)>eoplo. 

"Mother,"  said  Eric,  lu  n  low,  distinct 
voice,  meant  only  for  her  cur,  "  I  promise 
you  never  to  snlly  our  name  by  any  unwor- 
thy action.  I  will  bring  it  back  as  un- 
stained as  it  goes." 

"Ood  be  with  yon,  scni  of  my  heart!"'  sho 
said,  softly  bnt  solemnly.  "  Ood  bo  with 
yon  now  and  forever !" 

She  held  him  in  her  arms  for  a  moment; 
then  hu  mount(Hl  the  vessel's  side,  swing- 
ing himself  up  like  a  practised  seaman,  and 
stood  upon  the  deck,  handsome  and  graceful 
as  a  prineo.  IIo  looked  nrouiul  him,  saying 
a.  nuito  Vttle  to  the  scones  of  his  boyhood 
and  the  people  ho  had  once  regarded  as  his 
own  true  vassals;  then  he  fixed  his  eyes  on 
his  mother's  face  tenderly  and  sadly,  as  if  in 
her  was  concentrated  all  that  had  been  the 
happiness  of  his  twenty- live  years  of  life. 
Some  one  touched  him  on  thu  arm,  and, 
turning,  ho  saw  Eyvind. 

"  My  poor  friend,"  said  ho,  "  I  thought  my 
partings  were  all  over." 


60  aSVEN  YICARS  AND  HAIR. 

For  only  niiswcr  Eyvind  let  liis  liond  fall 
on  LiH  Irifiid's  sIiouldiT  iind  Hobhed  aloud. 
IJiit  tlio  ('leaking  of  roix-H,  tho  pulling  of  tlio 
anchor,  iiud  tho  diawiiig  iiwuy  of  tlio  giing- 
wny,  warned  hiiu  not  to  linger.  With  one 
wiirra  presHuro  of  tho  hand,  ICyviiid  rimlied 
to  tho  vossel'K  sido.  Tho  gangway  hod  been 
ronioved.  Ho  boiiudcd  over  tlio  railing, 
Hwiing  himself  down,  and  touelied  tho  ithoro 
just  as  tho  vesHel  moved.  A  wail  arose  from 
tho  people  ;  tho  mother  clawped  her  hands  as, 
iitraiiiing  and  ereaking,  tho  uliip  reluctant- 
ly moved  tho  lirst  pace  or  two  on  its  way. 
Eric's  oycs  were  (ixed  upon  his  niothor,  hers 
upon  him,  till  their  faces  grow  in<listinct  to 
each  other.  Gradually  tho  trees  and  the 
laudscapo  began  to  fade  and  grow  dim,  till 
thoy  Boomed  to  mingle  with  tlie  misty  hori- 
zon lying  beyond,  and  finally  bccanio  only  a' 
lino  of  blue  mist  rising  out  of  tho  sc-a.  Thus 
did  tho  heir  of  the  Udallers  leave  tho  homo 
of  his  ancestors,  and  steor  bis  bark  from  au- 
ciont  Foula. 


A 


ND  MAIR. 

(I  let  hin  lioatl  fall 
hihI  Hoblicd  nloud. 
,  tli<i  pulling  uf  tlio 
iiwiiy  oftlio  gang- 
liiigiT.  With  Olio 
lul,  Kyviiid  nislied 
gimgwiiy  had  bcoii 
oviT  tilt)  railing, 
touclu'd  tho  Hhnro 
A  wail  aroMc  from 
aH|)('(l  lifi'  liandH  aH, 
ho  Mhip  roluctant- 
)r  two  on  it8  way. 
)n  his  mother,  hum 
grow  in<iiNtiiict  to 
tlio  troes  and  tho 
and  ^ruw  dim,  till 
itli  tho  misty  bori- 
ally  became  only  a' 
It  of  tho  sea.  Thus 
ers  leave  tho  bonio 
r  his  bark  from  au- 


nCVEN  TEARS  AND  MAIB.  61 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"When  yon  iBft.ns  wo  biulo  good-byo,  tho  lenvca  of 
tho  reedx  wero  yellow ; 
Who  then   woiilil  hiwe  thniit;ht  thnt  tho  plum- 
bou^hii  would  have  blueauiiied  so  oftf 
»•  •  •  •  •  • 

I  turn  me  to  the  pictured  hall. 
Sondintt  ray  InnioHt  thoughtB  away,  they  icnch  the 

northom  liDiiiids— 
Tho  iiortheiii  boiuule  -how  far  they  are,  o'erpa»»ed 
the  faiUa  and  etreams !" 

From  tht  ChintM. 

Five  years  passed  rapidly  by,  and  Eric 
visited  all  tho  varions  countries  of  Europe, 
its  principal  cities,  and  its  rarest  sights.  At 
first  be  enjoyed  tho  constant  change  and  ex- 
citement and  bustle ;  then  there  came  a  time 
■when  bo  began  to  grow  weary,  and  to  turn 
■with  n  sort  of  longing  to  homo  and  Foula. 
Sometimes,  at  evening,  under  the  soothing 
influence  of  a  cigar,  bo  recalled  tho  old 
scenes  and  tho  old  faces,  and  hummed  to 
himself  between  the  puffs  of  smoke  fragments 
of  old  Norse  ballads  which  he  liad  learned 
to  know  and  love  in  tho  boyish  days  at  Fou- 
la.   Hia  dreams  were  bauutcd,  too,  by  the 


pg^mssiAtmrniM-^tsm^m^mm^^smmmh 


fi2 


SEVEN  YEARS  ANR  MAIR. 


1  !l 


i)ltl  Ic^joikIh,  tlio  tiilob  of  IliTHcrkor  mid  Vi- 
king, wlidso  iiij(|uiut  spiriU  liml  lung  Hitico 
grown  Mtlll. 

Tlio  idea  of  returning  to  Fonla  linil  begun 
to  take  NJnipo  in  liiH  nund  ;  and  oni^  evening, 
at  iiin  lodging.t  in  I'ariH,  lio  wim  mentally  ar- 
ranging tlio  rontii  lio  Nlionld  follow,  and  tin* 
pliiecB  lio  Hlinnld  revisit  on  his  lioniuward 
way,  wIkmi  n  letter  wnn  handed  him.  Ho 
broke  the  Heiil  and  read.  It  was  IVoni  his 
mother,  and  eontained  Ntrango  tiding^).  The 
lawyer  of  a  great  cNtato  lying  Homewliero 
ill  Franeo  had  been  in  eomnninieatioii  with 
Eyviiid.  ('ertain  cirennistanees  had  given 
rise  to  (ho  Hiinniso  in  the  French  village 
that  ho  was  the  son  and  heir  of  iv  noble 
lioiiHe,  who  had  mysteriously  <liijappcared 
years  before. 

Tlio  crazy  woman  had  most  opportune- 
ly died,  and  alter  her  death  Home  papers 
were  found  which  seemed  to  '  ivo  some  con- 
nection with  the  case.  On  .^yviud's  neck 
wuM  a  locket,  containing  two  miniatures, 
ono  supposed  to  bo  of  liis  mother,  taken  in 
younger  and  happier  diiys;  the  other  of  a 
roan,  fair- haireil  and  blue -eyed,  probably 
her  husband.  From  tiio  worn  and  wasteil 
hand  of  tho  dead  woman  were  taken  two 
rings,  uuo  her  wedding  -  ring,  tho  otbor  of 


en 
in 

Wl 

as 
he 
sh 

n« 

sh 

<!• 
w 

fa 
I'l 

K' 
re 
hi 
a\ 
fr 
re 
K' 

01 

U< 

V( 

bl 
w 
le 

ai 
hi 


t^ 


n>  MAin. 

Itcrsi'rkor  and  Vi- 
lli liiul  lung  Hincu 

1  Fonla  liail  boKUii 

anil  one  ovt'iiiii};, 

)  wiiH  inon tally  ur- 

ild  fiillow,  anil  till) 

iin  lii.H  lioiiicwai'il 

liitmli'il  liiiii.     III) 

It  WMH   t'i'oni  IlJH 

in;jo  tiiliii^s.    Till) 

lyhif;  MoninwliiTo 

nninulcatloii  witli 

itanccs  liail  pi  von 

10  Fii'nch  villafjo 

il  lii'lr  of  a  nolilo 

jnsly  iliuappuareil 

.  most  opportnnp- 
I'atli  Home  [lapern 
to  '  ivo  sonio  coii- 
3n  Jyvind's  neck 
;  two  iniuiaturca, 
i  niotlior,  taken  in 
fH ;  the  other  of  a 
no-oywl,  probably 
worn  and  wasted 
1  wero  taken  two 
ring,  the  other  of 


imm 


nVBN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


63 


enrions  worknianNliip,  bearinft  tlio  iitst  ofc 
iMHi){nia  of  ii  noblo  Iioiiho.  Kiic'h  mother 
went  on  to  nay  that  thrro  waH  littlo  donbfc 
att  to  Kyvind'H  Idiintlty,  and  tliat  hu  would 
bo  proved  hiir  to  tlio  iwlate.  In  conchmiou, 
hIio  deitlari'd  that  hi)  made  it  a  Hjiecial  ro- 
ipiest,  by  till?  memory  of  their  loiij;  IVieud- 
Mhip,  that  Kric  would  neeonipany  him  iu 
unetit  of  lilt)  expeeted  inheritunee;  that  ho 
would  wait  at  I'onla  for  an  answer,  and,  If 
favorable,  would  join  Eric  at  any  appointed 
place. 

"  So  fato  has  settled  the  question  of  my 
RoinK  home,"  soliloquized  Eric  as  ho  rose  to 
relight  his  ei>;ar,  for  iu  his  cxeitemeiit  ho 
had  allowed  it  to  k'»  ""t-  As  ho  piifled 
away  at  it,  ho  continued  to  rellect  on  his 
fiieiid's  sinniilar  f;ood -  fortune  ;  and  as  ho 
resolved,  without  a  nionient.'s  hesitation,  to 
grant  his  request,  ho  congratulated  himself 
on  his  knowledge  of  French,  which  languago 
ho  spoko  with  tlio  greatest  lluency.  That 
very  night  ho  wrote  to  Eyviiid,  declaring 
himself  most  willing  to  accompany  him 
wherever  the  promised  inheritance  might 
lead  him. 

The  mcotlng-placo  agreed  upon  was  Cal- 
ais, that  city  of  the  past,  with  its  crowd  of 
Uiatorical  associatious,  its  quaint,  old- time 


mmimmmmmm 


rt 


64 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIK. 


streets,  toncbed  -with  too  perceptible  tokens 
of  decay,  and  its  low-lying,  saiuly  skirt  of 
liills.  The  meeting  between  tlie  frieuds 
was  quiet ;  no  enthusiasm,  no  outward  dem- 
oustiatiou,  ouly  a  deep,  licait-felt  cordiality. 
After  the  flist  greetings,  they  sat  down  and 
studied  each  other,  auxious  to  see  if  time 
and  absence  had  made  any  changes.  Ey  vind, 
gazing  intently  at  bis  friend,  saw  the  sinu- 
ous ease  and  suppleness  of  movement  gained 
in  the  hardy  sports  of  boyhood,  joined  now 
to  a  graceful  elegance,  owing  to  his  years 
of  travel.  He  observed  in  his  manner  an 
almost  entire  absence  of  the  old  boyish  im- 
petuosity, and  in  its  place  a  calm  self-reli- 
ance not  easily  disturbed.  The  traces  of 
his  boyhood  that  had  hung  around  him  dur- 
ing his  early  manhood  had  disappeared,  but 
the  old  charm  was  replaced  by  a  more  po- 
tent one.  He  had  been  a  boy  who  easily  won 
tiie  love  of  others ;  he  was  a  man  who  gain- 
ed, in  addition,  their  confidence  and  respect. 
At  times  Eyvind  could  see  the  air  of  com- 
mand unconsciously  asserting  it  self  through 
the  veil  of  courteous  self-coutrol,  and  giving 
to  his  manner  a  slight  haughtiness;  but,  in 
general,  the  young  ruler  of  the  people,  the 
idol  of  the  fishermen,  was  a  polished,  self- 
contained,  travelled  man  of  the  world.    lu 


lND  mair. 


SKVEX  YEARS  AKD  MAIR. 


65 


perceptible  tokens 
iiig,  saudy  skirt  of 
tweeu  the  friends 
n,no  outward  dem- 
icart-felt  cordiality, 
they  sat  down  aud 
10U8  to  see  if  time 
y  changes.  Ey vind, 
lend,  saw  the  sinii- 
•f  movement  gained 
oyhood,  joined  now 
iwing  to  his  years 
L  in  his  manner  an 
'  the  old  boyish  ini- 
ice  a  calm  self-roli- 
sd.  The  traces  of 
ug  around  him  dur- 
ad  disappeared,  but 
aced  by  a  more  po- 
boy  who  easily  won 
as  a  man  who  gaiu- 
fldence  and  respect, 
see  the  air  of  com- 
jrting  itself  through 
-coutrol,  and  giving 
laughtiness ;  but,  iu 
r  of  the  people,  the 
•as  a  polished,  self- 
\  of  the  world.    Iu 


appearance,  however,  ho  was  very  little 
changed  ;  his  hair  was  not  a  shade  darker — 
the  same  bright  yellow  that  the  sun  used 
to  turn  to  gold  on  the  beach  at  Foula.  His 
complexion  was  somewhat  fairer:  it  had 
once  been  tanned  almost  to  swarthiness ;  it 
was  now  a  warm,  clear  olive.  The  expres- 
sion of  the  ffieo  was  less  scornful,  and  more 
thoughtful ;  less  contemptuous,  aud  more 
gentle. 

Eric  was  meanwhile  observing  his  friend 
■with  no  less  attentive  eyes,  and  as  the  result 
of  the  scrutiny,  ho  saw  a  man  shorter  by  a 
head  than  himself,  broader  built,  and  more 
powerful ;  the  face,  naturally  swarthy,  tan- 
ned by  exposure ;  the  eyes  and  hair  of  a 
vivid  black  ;  the  general  appearance  as  un- 
chauged  as  if  they  had  parted  yesterday. 
Certainly,  the  heir-expectant  to  a  noble  es- 
tate was  not  handsome.  Eric  admitted  this, 
yet  his  face  was  not  uninteresting.  It  had, 
though,  a  certaiu  gloom  and  wcirdness,  or 
perhaps  Eric  fitucied  so,  thiuking  of  his 
strange  and  mournful  past. 

While  this  scrutiny  was  being  conducted 
on  either  side,  they  did  not  sit  silently  gaz- 
ing at  each  other ;  they  talked  on  commcui- 
place  subjects,  and  Eyvind  gave  Erie  the 
trivial  gossip  of  the  island.  The  details  of 
5 


i 


''-4lt 


66 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


liome,  tho  mention  of  lialf-forgotten  places 
ami  people,  fell  upon  Eric's  ear  liko  frag- 
ments of  an  old  fiiniiliar  lay.  Ho  listened 
entranced,  interrupting  the  speaker  only 
now  and  then  with  a  question,  till  at  last 
they  drifted  on  to  tho  important  subject 
that  had  brought  them  together. 

"One  night,"  said  Eyvind,  "  I  was  sitting 
out  upon  tho  rocks,  watching  tho  tides.  It 
was  a  dark  night,  and  tiiero  was  no  other 
light  than  that  from  the  fire  in  tho  hut. 
Strange  fancies  canio  into  my  mind,  and  I 
thought  I  heard  voices  coming,  too,  from 
tho  hut.  I  rose  and  went  in.  I  saw  my 
mother  sitting  by  the  fire,  her  head  resting 
on  a  chair  as  I  had  left  her.  I  thought  she 
was  asleep,  and  would  have  gone  out  again, 
but  I  heard  her  give  a  deep  sigh.  I  went 
over  and  touched  her.  She  opened  her  eyes 
and  looked  at  me,  but  said  nothing.  I  raised 
her,  and  placed  her  on  tho  bed.  She  began 
to  murmur  to  herself,  and  spoke  of  tho  Loire. 
Then  she  tried  to  sing,  in  a  very  feeble  voice, 
a  verso  of  some  old  French  ballad  she  had 
often  sung  before.  Her  voice  grew  fainter 
and  fainter.  At  tho  last  words  of  the  song, 
It  died  away  completely.  I  listened,  but  sho 
said  no  more.  I  bent  over  her.  She  was 
dead.    Her  troubled  mind  was  quiet  at  last." 


hi 
ti 

Ci 

lu 


w 
ai 

Pi 
la 
bi 
m 

tl 

b( 
in 

Bt 

m 

St 

& 

la 
m 

tl 


i 


ND  MAIR. 

If-forgotteu  places 
■ic'n  ear  liUo  frag- 

lay.  He  listened 
tlio  speaker  only 
jestioii,  till  at  last 
important  subject 
)jj;otlier. 

inil, "  I  was  sittinR 
Ling  the  tides.  It 
hero  was  no  other 
le  lire  in  the  hnt. 
to  my  mind,  and  I 

coining,  too,  from 
ent  in.  I  saw  my 
■0,  her  head  resting 
ler.  I  thought  she 
ive  gone  out  again, 
ileep  sigh.  I  wont 
>lie  opened  her  eyes 
d  nothing.  I  raised 
10  bed.  She  began 
1  spoko  of  the  Loire. 

a  very  feeble  voice, 
nch  ballad  she  had 

voice  grew  fainter 

;  words  of  the  song, 

I  listened,  but  she 

3ver  her.     She  was 

d  was  quiet  at  last." 


■nwii 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  JIAIR. 


67 


"Poor  soul!"  said  Eric,  softly;  "her  oiio 
bright  memory  pursued  her  to  the  end.  I 
trust,  indeed,  she  has  gone  to  a  country 
calmer,  brighter,  more  beautiful  than  the 
land  beside  the  I-ioiro  she  loved  so  dearly." 

"May  sho  rest  in  peace!"  said  Eyvind ; 
"hers  was  a  sorrowful  life,  lint  after  she 
was  buried,  wo  saw  that  in  certain  papers 
and  articles  found  were  pretty  conclusive 
proofs  of  my  claim  to  :i  French  estate.  The 
lawyer  had  communicated  with  ine  before, 
but  tho  proofs  were  wanting.  Now  I  think 
my  claim  cau  be  made  good." 

"I  trust  so,"  said  Eric.  "But  where  is 
the  estate  in  (pieslion  f" 

Tliey  both  paused;  for  the  clock  in  the 
belfry  tower,  in  a  neighboring  square,  struck 
midnight,  and  they  waited  till  its  solemn 
strokes  had  ceased.    Then  Eyvind  answered, 

"Tho  estate  lies  in  Touraine.  Tho  fami- 
ly are  of  Scottish  descent,  but  fled  from  their 
native  country  in  troublous  times,  and  for 
services  rendered  in  various  wars  received 
grants  from  the  kings  of  France." 

"So  jou  are  a  Franco -Scot,"  said  Eric, 
langhing;  "and  what,  is  to  bo  your  name, 
most  potent  seigneur  f" 

"Douglas,"  answered  Eyvind.  "My  fa- 
ther was  Kobert  Douglas,  and  my  mother 


i 


mmmmm 


68  SEVEN  TEABS  AND  HAIR. 

Marjorio,  or,  na  sUo  was  called  iu  France, 
Marguerite  Stewart." 

"Two  of  the  noblest  names  of  Scotland," 
said  Eric.  "  Why,  this  makes  the  matter  still 
more  interesting:  Scottish  settlers  on  French 
soil,  and  of  the  race  of  good  Lord  James,  who 
bore  away  the  royal  heart  of  the  Bruce."* 

It  was  near  morning  when  the  friends 
Bcparated :  they  had  so  much  to  tell  each 
oIIrt;  such  recollections  to  go  back  upon; 
such  plans  for  the  future  to  discuss.  Tho 
hours  flew  unnoticed  ;  and  even  when,  smil- 
ing at  their  forgetful ncss,  they  bade  each 
other  good-night,  neither  felt  like  sleeping, 
and  Avonld  willingly  have  prolouged  their 
vigil  for  hours  to  come. 

Next  morning,  Eyvind  showed  Eric  the 
documents  found  after  his  mother's  death. 
They  were  yellow  with  age,  and  flecked  here 
and  there  with  dark  spots  of  mildew ;  but 
though  Eyvind  could  not  understand  them, 
as  they  were  drawn  up  in  French,  and  their 
contents  bewildered  Eric,  they  concluded 
that  they  might  be  of  groat  weight  iu  tho 
lawyer's  opinio)),  and  resolved  to  let  him 
have  them   as  soon  as  possible.      Eyvind 

•  Branches  of  both  theje  families  did  renlly  BOtllc 
Iu  Touraliie,  acquiring  great  dlsti  action  there. 


tl 
II 

Ci 

o 

S( 

1' 

c: 
n 
n 

ji 
i) 
e 

y 

b 

A 


lND  mair. 

called  ia  France, 

inmes  of  Scotland," 
kkos  the  matter  still 
li  settlers  on  French 
>d  Lord  James,  who 
•t  of  the  Brnce."* 
when  the  friends 
much  to  tell  each 
i  to  go  back  upon ; 
•o  to  discuss.  The 
id  oven  when,  sniil- 
8»,  they  bade  each 
L-  felt  like  sleeping, 
,ve  prolonged  their 

1  showed  Eric  the 
his  mother's  death, 
ge,  and  flecked  hero 
ots  of  mildew;  but 
t  understand  then), 
n  French,  and  their 
•ic,  they  concluded 
freat  weight  in  the 
esolved  to  let  him 
possible.      Eyvind 

amines  did  really  eotllc 
liBtinction  there. 


HUH 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


69 


then  brought  out  the  locket,  heavy  and 
massive,  but  tarnished  a  little  by  time.  It 
uoutainod  two  portraits.  The  lirst  was  that 
of  a  mau  young,  and  fair,  and  comely  ;  the 
second,  a  pale,  dark  woman,  with  large,  ex- 
pressive eyes. 

"How  strongly  you  resemble  your  moth- 
er!" said  Eric;  "  that  is,  as  she  looks  iu  this 
miniature.  She  must  have  altered  very 
much.    I  should  never  have  recognized  her." 

"  The  resemblance  will  be  a  strong  proof 
in  my  favor,"  said  Eyviud ;  "  but  look  at  the 
initials:  M.  S.  and  R.  D.  I  think  that  lock- 
et alone  v/ould  establish  my  claim." 

"If  it  can  be  proved  how  it  came  into 
you"^  possession,"  said  Eric ;  "  but  the  resem- 
bla.ice  is  an  undeniable  point  in  your  favor. 
And  now  show  me  the  ring.  I  presume  this 
is  the  Douglas  crest,"  ho  said,  examining  it ; 
"  it  is  most  curiously  wrought,  and  bears  the 
motto  of  their  house." 

"The  same  initials  are  iu  that,"  said  Ey- 
vind ;  "  it  was  evidently  a  lovc-tokeu  to  my 
poor  mother  from  her  betrothed,  afterward 
her  husband." 

The  wedding-ring,  which  Eric  next  exam- 
ined, was  a  thin,  slender  hoop  of  gold,  a  good 
deal  worn  and  tarnished.  Eyviud  had  tak- 
en it  from  the  wasted  marriage-finger  of  his 


mjg)liii0,i,»  piij  'Mumitl^m 


;ij|j:l);f- 


70 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIll. 


(leail  inotlun's  hand.  ■\V1umi  Eyviiul  liad 
Bhowii  liis  fiiciul  (ill  these  rclicH  of  tho  past, 
Hacrcd  now  iii  their  nssociatioii  with  the 
]iai)less  dead,  links  with  a  bright  past  which 
had  availed  heruothiii}?,  they  together  wrote 
a  letter  to  tho  lawyer  in  charge  of  tho  Dong- 
las  estate,  asking  what  further  steps  were  to 
1)0  taken  in  tho  matter,  and  ofl'ering  to  give 
him  such  proofs  as  lay  in  their  possession. 
Tiio  lawyer  Avas  in  his  dingy  office,  sur- 
rounded by  parchments  and  documents  con- 
taining nnmy  a  strange  history,  -svlieu  the 
letter  was  handed  him  that  threw  a  strong 
light  ou  Avhat  had  beeu  a  mystery  for  twenty 
years. 

Meantime,  Eric  and  his  friend  busied 
themselves  in  seeing  the  lew  sights  that 
Calais  still  afforded;  wended  their  way 
through  its  old-fashioned  streets,  entered 
its  Cathedral,  and  stood  enraptured  before 
the  altar-piece,  which  was  from  the  hand  of 
Vandyke.  They  gazed  in  awe  ou  its  rich 
and  sombre  tints,  thrown  into  relief  by  the 
mediojval  ,;looni  of  tho  church,  and  by  the 
warm  glow  from  tho  painted  cathedral  win- 
dows. 

The  friends  thoroughly  enjoyed  tlio  days 
spent  in  tho  old  town  by  tho  sea,  and  among 
tho  traces  of  that  historic  past  iu  which  Cal- 


1'' 
tl 


fi 

Hi 
t( 

a 
tl 
h 
tl 
a 
fi 
tl 
o 
c 


D  MAIK. 

li(Mi  Eyvinil  lind 
relics  of  tlio  past, 
iciatiou  -with  tlio 
bright  past  which 
icy  together  wroto 
large  ofthoDou,?;- 
thcr  steps  were  to 
(1  olloriiis  to  give 
I  their  possession, 
dingy  otTice,  sur- 
1(1  documents  cou- 
history,  -when  tlio 
lit  threw  a  strong 
iiystery  for  twenty 

lis  fiiond  busied 
J  few  sights  that 
ended  their  way 
id  streets,  entered 
enraptured  before 
i  from  the  hand  of 
u  awe  on  its  rich 
into  relief  by  the 
ihurch,  and  by  the 
ited  cathedral  win- 


8EVEX  YKAHS  AND  MAIR. 


71 


ais  had  borne  so  strange  and  prominent  n 
jiart.  Many  times  afterward  they  recalled 
their  brief  soJiHuu  there  with  the  liveliest 
emotions  of  pleasure. 

At  last,  however,  they  received  an  answer 
from  the  lawyer,  lie  advised  them  to  come 
straight  to  Touraino,  and  formally  lay  claim 
to  the  estate.  U^i  declared  him.self  willing, 
and  even  anxious,  to  examine  the  jnoofa  in 
their  possession,  and  expressed  a,  sincoro 
liope  that  Eyvind  might  be  proved  heir  to 
the  estate,  which  was  now  in  possession  of 
a  lady,  and  would  ov  Jiitually  pass  out  of  the 
family.  Tims  encouraged,  they  determined 
to  lose  no  time  in  reaching  Touraino,  and  at 
once  began  their  preparations  for  departure, 
cheered  by  the  prosiiect  of  success. 


f  enjoyed  the  days 

the  sea,  and  among 

past  iu  which  Cal- 


I 


73 


SRVEN  YEAnS  AMD  HAIB. 


CIIArTER  V. 

"Time's  restless  wlicol  niiDtlicr  turn  linth  made ; 
Another  scene  In  life  U  now  (linpliiyod ; 
The  curtniii  Tell  nud  rose,  and  lo  !  v/hi\t  change ! 
•  •««•«• 

And,  one  by  ouo,  new  actors  tlirouj;  the  etngc." 

St.  B.  UitowN. 

TnE  ovoning  was  cold,  and  gray,  and  raw, 
when  the  two  young  men  found  themselves 
ill  a  little  village  of  Toiiriiine,  near  one  of 
those  towns  so  famous  in  the  chronicles  of 
the  past,  so  unimportant  in  the  history  of  to- 
day. After  they  hail  left  the  Grande  Chaus- 
s6e,  their  way  lay  over  a  rugged  and  nnlevel 
road,  that  seemed  to  oxhaunt  the  hist  linger- 
ing energies  of  the  lean  jiost  -  horses.  Our 
travollei"8,  weary  and  worn,  joyfully  alighted 
at  the  door  of  a  little  inn,  which,  according 
to  the  rude,  painted  sign  swinging  ".bovetho 
jiorch,  was  known  as  the  "  Inn  of  the  Vino." 
It  was  a  low,  broad  ediiice,  with  sturdy  walls, 
and  A  large,  overhanging  roof,  thickly  cov- 
ered with  thatch,  from  the  midst  of  which 
appeared  the  windows  of  the  upper  story. 
The  young  nir  i  were  nshered  into  what 
seemed  to  be  a  great  hall  or  sitting-room. 


Th< 
lica 
lint 
ap.'i 
wh 
Ilia 
celt 
a  SI 
ofi 

HO 

mil 
lire 

(!OU 

the 
wvi 
ski 
wit 
Ian 
lire 
bar 
) 
sea 
the 
poi 
the 
iihi 
it  I 
ure 
the 


li 


0  HAIB. 


8KVKN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


73 


V. 

turn  linth  mnde; 
iKpliiyert ; 
1(j !  wlint  chau!;o ! 
«  tt  « 

liroiis  the  Btngc." 
M.  B.  IJuowN. 

\([  gray,  and  raw, 
I'Diiml  thcuisolveH 
lino,  near  one  of 
the  clironiclos  of 
the  history  of  to- 
10  Grando  ClmuB- 
gj;cd  and  nnlevel 
;(t  tlio  last  linger- 
ost  -  horses.  Onr 
joyfully  alighted 
which,  according 
inging  '^bovo  the 
Inn  of  the  Vine." 
rith  sturdy  walls, 
roof,  thickly  cov- 
)  midst  of  which 
the  npper  story. 
Iiered  into  what 
or  sitting-room. 


Tlio  coiling  was  supported  liy  heavy  cnms- 
hoanis  of  (lurk  wood,  giving  it  a  curious  and 
unti(|uu  appearance.  In  tlio  centre  of  tho 
apartment  stood  a  tahle  covered  with  a  snow- 
whito  linen  clotli.  On  tho  broad  hearth  lay 
blazing  logs,  crackling  and  siiarkling  as  if 
celebrating  sonic  festivity  of  tlicir  own.  In 
ft  sort  of  recess  near  the  hearth  sat  a  couple 
of  women,  busy  with  the  distaflf  and  shuttle, 
so  that  tho  monotonons  hum  of  the  wheel 
mingled  with  the  pleasant  crackling  of  the 
lire.  A  stout  woman  rose  to  greet  them, 
courtesjing,  and  asking  in  her  native  puiois 
their  commands,  llor  face  was  brown  and 
wrinkled,  but  not  unpleasant.  Her  scarlet 
skirt,  white  bodice  and  cap,  were  iu  keeping 
with  tho  cheerful  comfort  of  tho  room.  The 
Landlord,  who  was  smoking  his  pipe  near  tho 
lire,  addressed  tho  travellers  iu  French,  and 
bade  thorn  welcome  to  tho  iun. 

While  suiipor  was  being  ordered,  they 
seated  themselves  near  tho  tiro,  and  amused 
themselves  examining  the  jilace  and  its  ap- 
pointments. The  mosu  prominent  feature 
thereof  was  a  large  walnut  press,  extending 
almost  from  tloor  to  ceiling,  and  polished  till 
it  shone  again.  On  tho  top  were  china  fig- 
ures, in  garbs  scarcely  more  picturesque  than 
the  people  of  tho  inu.    On  tho  wall  beside  it 


74 


BEVKM  YEAHS  AND  MAIH. 


hung  ft  lar>;o  wooden  hnly-watov  font,  anil 
lioni  "1(1  tlicro  nrotuiil  Ibo  room  various  col- 
cncil  piintH  ofsaciod  wubjects. 

On  Kyvind  tho  room  "uulo  littli)  impn-H- 
Hion,  except  Buch  m  was  produced  l)y  itH 

Hubstantiiil  I ilort.in  contrast  t«  tho  uvuy 

gloom  of  tho  wintry  dusk,  tliron«h  wliicli 
Huow  wiiM  falling  iu  soft,  heavy  llakcH,  and 
lust  lii'ginning  to  wliitcn  tho  landscape. 
hut  with  Kiic  it  was  dilVorent.  1  nUy  aliv 
to  tlio  quaint  romance  of  tho  little  inn,  hi 
could  have  believed  himself  in  an  ancient 
hostlery  of  the  post.  Whereas  Eyvind  had 
but  lately  lived  amidst  scenes  moni  pictu- 
resque, mingled  with  p«o)do  os  (puiint  aiul 
primitive,  and  whoso  dwellings  were  as  cu- 
rious and  ancient  as  this.  Erie  had  spent 
years  in  the  mod'vn  world  of  civilization, 
and  justly  regarded  this  littlo  nook  as  one 
forgotten  in  the  bustle  of  the  century,  which 
had  left  it  as  it  was,  a  part  and  parcel  of  tho 
past.  .     . 

Their  supper  was  brought  in, served  dainti- 
ly and  prettily,  with  French  tastefulnesH  and 
French  cleanliness.  Eric  was  iu  ecstasy ;  he 
was  charmed  with  evorything,  and  in  such 
state  of  mind,  that  when  from  her  labor  at 
the  distatf  rose  a  pale,  fair-haired,  slender 
niaidou,  he  was  fully  prepared  to  believe  her 


I*  ] 
fnl 

HOI 

in 
Hi 
he 
Ye 

to 
dit 
bu 

tr.n 
Fr 
dii 
trii 
ho 
ast 
tie 
he 
yei 

sel 
to 
ree 
ox 
bei 
foi 
lie 
coi 


ll 


■HMSb 


MHOPJ 


y-wntcv  font,  ftiul 
room  vaiioiin  col- 
ots. 

liulo  lilllo  imi)reH- 
1  jnodiiccd  by  IN 

lit  I  list  f'»  iiio  jji'Hy 

ik,  tliroii;;U  wliicli 
heavy  itaUcs,  anil 
Ml   tlio    'andscape- 
rout.     I  iiUy  alivi- 
f  tlio  littln  inn,lu 
soU'  in  sill  iincieiu 
icicas  Eyviiid  lind 
((•ones  iiioro  pictii- 
i)do  OH  iiiiiiint  and 
ulliiiRS  vorc  as  cii- 
i»,  Erie  lind  Hpoiit 
rid  of  civilization, 
little  luxdv  as  oiio 
the  century,  whirh 
t  and  parcel  of  the 

ht  in, served  dniiiti- 
ch  taatefiilni'ss  and 
was  in  ecstasy;  lie 
thing,  and  in  such 
I  from  her  labor  at 
'air-haired,  slender 
larcd  to  helieve  her 


BKVEN  YKAHS  AND  MAIH. 


75 


ft  priiiCPHS  in  disguise,  and  the  most  beauti- 
ful of  mortals.  Tliey  both  observed  her  with 
some  attention.  81ie  was  prettily  dressed 
in  peasant  cost  nine,  coarse  but  picturesque. 
Her  eyes  were  blue,  her  hair  iv  sort  of  lla.xeii, 
her  complexion  jiale,  her  features  regular. 
Yet  she  was  not  a  beauty,  and  her  elaliim 
to  admiration  lay  principally  in  liiat  she 
differed  widely  from  the  dark,  merry -eyed, 
buxom  lasses  who  abounded  in  that  region. 

She  cast  a  hasty  glance  in  passing  at  tlio 
travellers;  then,  addressing  a  few  words  in 
I'Vencli  to  the  landlord,  left  the  room,  and 
did  uot  return  that  night.  Aleaiiwliilo  our 
travi  Hers  were  volubly  entertained  by  the 
host  III  'Cootl  Danio  Lucille,  his  sister,  who 
assisted  him  in  the  maiingcmeiit  of  domes- 
tic atlaira  since  the  <leath  of  his  wife,  which 
he  infoii  d  them  had  taken  place  niuetceu 
years  ago,  at  the  feast  of  St.  Martin. 

Wliou  the  young  men  expressed  them- 
selves ready  to  retire,  they  were  conducted 
to  the  upper  story,  and  ushered  into  their 
respective  apartments,  both  of  whicli  wore 
exquisitely  clean,  and  furnished  with  the 
best  of  feather-beds,  Our  travellers  socm 
forget,  in  tin  r  warm  depths,  the  long  jour- 
ney of  the  day;  but  J^ric  dreamed  ho  had 
como  to  a  strange  country,  where  the  pco- 


i 


■•igmmim^-- 


7G 


MKVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIB. 


plo  ha<l  been  kept  in  nn  (Miclmnted  sloop  for 
II  cHiitury,  tlicii  limMi  iiiid  piirsiied  tlicii-  (ir- 
tUnary  ivvofiitioiiH,  letiiiiiiiiK  tlio  garb  nml 
Kpcocii  ntitl  clifuiictiT  of  IV  by-gono  iiRo.     Ho 
thoiiRlit  bo  w(iH  waiidcriiiK  tbroiinb  its  litldf* 
iiiul  (bili'H,  pluckiiiK  at  its  limbic.  fniitH,\vh(;ii, 
lip  from  tlio  ground  at  bin  foot,  started  a 
bwilbsoiim  reptibi,  and  closo  bcsido  bif.  bo 
saw  tbo  pule,  fair  faco  of  tbo  peasant -girl 
of  tbo  inn,  Uxikiiig  wan  and  biiKRard.     llo 
tbougbt  bis  iiiotbcr's  voioo  (.•iiUod  liini  wain- 
iiigly,  and  bo  awoko.     Tiie  stars  wcro  sbin- 
iug  in  softly  tbrougb  Hio  littio  window  witb 
its  edges  of  tbatcb ;  bo  saw  by  tlu-ir  ligbt 
tbat  Hakes  of  snow  wero  still  falling;  and 
bo  tried  to  ronioniber  wbero  bo  was.      Ho 
soon  recalled  everytbing;  tbcir  arrival  in 
Touraino,  tbo  old-fasbioncd  inn,  tbo  people, 
and  tbo  object  of  tbeir  coining.    Tben,  again, 
tbeso  tbougbts  grew  indistinet,  became  jum- 
bled incongruously,  and  be  was  soon  asleep 
once  more ;  nor  did  bo  wako  till  tbo  morning 
8UU  camo  streaming  iu,  and  Hooded  all  tbo 
room. 

Tbo  day  was  spent  in  strolling  about  tbo 
place,  awaiting  tbo  visit  from  tbo  lawyer, 
wbo  lived  in  au  adjoining  town.  They 
found  much  to  interest  tbeni:  tbo  qneor 
littio  old- time  cottages,  witb  tboir  beavy 


till 
wii 
les 
cn\ 
obi 
uoi 
dai 
tin 
red 
wli 
pai 
aui 

r 

to 

tin 

bii 

Na 

bn 

0V( 

tra 

gn 

tin 
lor 

( 

th( 

bif! 
tli( 
da 


V  MAIR. 

icliaiitpil  Bloop  for 
imrHiicil  their  or- 
11)^  tlio  giiib  mill 
hy-goiio  ii^u-  '•'> 
;  tliroiiuli  ilttllchlH 
imj;i<'l'iiiitH,\vlieii, 
I'm  liict,  Htartcd  a 

IHO  )l('Hi<lo  llil'.  lio 
■  tllO   IH'llHllIlt-gill 

uid  liii>jKiH'(l.  Ilo 
rt  called  liiin  wmii- 
ic  HtiUH  wcro  Hllill- 
ittlo  window  with 
iiw  by  tlmir  li^lit 
Btill  falliii};;  ftixl 
lero  ho  was.  Ho 
;  tlioir  arrival  in 
ed  inn,  tho  iieople, 
iiing.  Thon,n)J!aiu, 
itiiict,  became  jnm- 
10  was  soon  nuleep 
ko  till  the  morning 
md  Hooded  all  the 

strollinR  about  the 
;  from  the  lawyer, 
iiinj;  town.  They 
tlicm:  tho  queer 
,  with  their  heavy 


SaVIN  YEARH  AND  MAIR. 


77 


thfttcheH,  out  of  which  i>oopod  tho  upper 
windowH;  tint  vi^(■yurd^4,  Htripped  and  leaf- 
lew;  the  orcluirdH,  full  of  Hkeleton-liko  treoH, 
covered  with  Hue,  powdery  hiiow.  They 
obNcrved  liiat  tho  women  were  not  eonspie- 
uiuiH  for  beauty,  beiuK  for  the  moHt  part 
(lurk  and  Hwiirthy;  in  the  younK*'r  o»ef«, 
their  youthful  vivacity  aiul  HpriKhttinoHx 
redeemed  llu'iu  from  positive  UKlineHH;  but 
when  yontli,  aiul  itM  sparkle  aud  >;low,  hud 
pUHsed  away,  they  were  wrinkled,  aud  dull, 
and  homely. 

Toward  evening  tho  young  men  returned 
to  tlio  hotel;  anil,  Healing  fhemwdves  near 
the  landhu'd,  Krio  began  to  eonverHo  with 
him  on  the  villago  and  itH  inhabitants. 
Nanette,  an  on  tho  evening  ]>revious,  was 
busy  with  her  Hpiuning  ;  finding  tinu>,  how- 
ever, to  steal  a  furtive  glance  at  tho  yonug 
travellers. 

"  I  Hupposo  there  are  many  of  the  old  boU 
gueurs  etliil  in  po-ssessiou  of  their  nuiuors 
throughout  Touraiuo,"  said  Eric  to  tho  laud- 
lord. 

"Jhit  yes,  inonsieur,  there  are  ninny  of 
them,"  Haid  the  man,  taking  his  pi|io  from 
his  mouth.  "  Our  own  seigneur  is  ilead,  but 
tho  chAteau  still  reuittius  in  possession  of  Lis 
daughter." 


m\\ 


78 


SBVBN  YEARS  AND  MAIK. 


v  t 


"  TUey  are   Scotch,  aro  tbcy  not »"  said 

Eric. 

"  But    no,  monsienr,  tliey    aro    Frencli, 
saitl  the  Jiindlora— "  true  Tonraiuesc." 
"  But  of  Scottisli  descent  t"  asked  Eric. 
"It  is  said,''  answered  tbo  landlord, nod- 
ding affirmatively, "  that  in  the  old,  old  times 
the  first  of  tlieiu  canio  from  Scotland,  and 
fonsht  in  the  wars  of  the  king,  especially 
in  tliose  of  Louis  XII.,  suniamed  Le  Pvre  dii 
Peuple.     Often  I  have  heard  the  old  people 
tell  of  their  doings  in  the  Italian  -svars.    But 
that  is  long  ago." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  your  seigneur,  or, 
rather,  his  descendants  f" 

"  Douglas,"  said  the  man ;  "  there  is  but 
ono  daughter  left  of  them,  a  beautiful  l:<v, 
who  lives  like  a  princess,  shut  up  in  the  old 
house.  It  is  e,  strange  story -—that  of  tho 
disappearance  of  the  infant  heir." 

"Tlie  disappearance  of  tho  infant  heir!' 
said  Eric.     "  Why,  bow  was  that  ?"  ^^ 

"  It  is  nigh  a  quarter  of  a  century  a;,'0, 
said  tho  landlord,  retilling  his  pipe,  which 
ho  lit  with  a  cinder  from  tho  hearth.  "I 
was  a  yoni\g  man  then,  and  I  used  to  tako 
great  aelight  in  watching  the  doings  of  tho 
people  at  the  castlo.  Tbo  old  lord  was  still 
alive,  and  was  in  great  delight  when  his 


8or 

ma 

boi 

of 

ter 

clii 

riv 

we: 

see 

eve 


cr? 

ti  fr 

altl 

i< 

veil 

it 

in  I 

tt 

estf 
(I 

"It 

mil 

1 


BM 


BH 


J^D  MAIR. 

•e  tbcy  not  ?"  said 

liey   are    Frencb," 

Tonraiiiesc." 
ut Tasked  Eric. 

tbo  landlord,  iiod- 
iu  the  old,  old  times 
from  Scotlaud,  and 
be  king,  especially 
iiruained  Le  Fire  (hi 
sard  tlie  old  people 
1  Italian  wars.    But 

)f  your  seigneur,  or, 

J 

nan ;  "  tbere  is  but 
m,  a  beautiful  bidy, 
I,  sliut  up  in  tbo  old 
story  —  tbat  of  the 
ant  bcir." 

of  tbe  infant  beir!" 
was  tbat  1" 
•  of  a  century  a,';0," 
ing  bis  pipe,  wbicli 
oui  tbo  licartb.  "  I 
,  and  I  used  to  tako 
iig  tbe  doings  of  tbo 
'bo  old  lord  was  still 
it  deligbt  wben  bis 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


79 


son,  a  band.soHio  and  gallant  young  man 
married  tbo  Demoiselle  Stewart  of  tbe  neigb- 
boring  seigneury.  It  was  ber  boy,  a  cbild 
of  two  yjars  old,  who  disappeared  so  mys- 
teriously. One  evening  bis  nurse  took  tlie 
cliild  to  walk;  fbey  were  seen  last  by  tbe 
river'a  bank.  It  was  supposed  tbat  tbey 
were  taken  away  by  pirates  wbo  bad  been 
.seen  around  tbe  coast.  Notbing  more  was 
over  beard  of  eitber  cbild  or  nurse." 

"Nurse,  tben,  it  was,  and  not  motber," 
cried  Erie,  excitedly.     Tbe  landlord  stared. 

"  Tlien  you  know  tbe  story,  monsieur,"  be 
remarked. 

"  Did  yon  not  say  sometbing  of  tbe  motb- 
er?" said  Eric,  recollecting  biniself. 

"It  was  tbo  nnrse,"  said  tbo  landlord. 
"Tbo  motber  lived  for  many  years  after, 
altbougb  bowed  down  witb  grief." 

"  Suppose  tlie  cbild  sbould  ever  return  ?" 
ventured  Eric. 

"Comment,  monsieur?"  asked  tbe  old  man, 
in  amazement. 

"  I  said,  suppose  tbo  beir  of  tbo  Douglas 
estates  sbould  appear?"  explained  Eric. 

"It  i.i  not  possiMc,"  said  tbo  landlord. 
"It  is  believed  In:  lias  been  drowned  or 
murdered  by  tbo  pirates." 

Tbali  uigbt  Eric  repeated  tbe  landlord's 


BO 


SEVEN  YEARS  AN1>  MAIU. 


«^Bi 


tale  to  Eyvind.  Ho  seemed  deeply  moved 
ou  learning  that  the  hapless  wonmn  ho  had 
80  long  regarded  as  his  mother  was  only  his 
nurse.  It  was  again  past  niiduight  when 
they  retired,  so  bnsy  were  they  discussing 
the  old  topic  with  this  new  light  thrown 

upon  it.  .,11 

Next  morning,  the  lawyer's  card  was  hand- 
ed to  them-M.  Victor  Maurin.     Ho  waited 
for  them  in  the  great  room  of  the  inn.    They 
had  liim  sliown  to  their  apartments,  where 
they  could  better  discuss  the  important  af- 
fairs under  consideration.     Tlie  lawyer  was 
neatly  and  scrnpulonsly  attired  in  black, 
according  to  the  custom  of  Frencu  proies- 
Bional  men.     His  manner  had  all  the  precise 
and  formal  politeness  of  the  old  school,  but 
under  this  old-fashioned  courtesy  he  veiled 
a  keen  legal  acumen.     He  begged  them  to 
give  him  a  concise  ar.d  accurate  account ot 
the  crazy  woman,  her  arrival  upon  the  isl- 
and, her' death,  and  tho  circninstances  at- 
tendant thereupon.    He  contirmo<»!  the  land- 
lord's vers.ou  of  the  story,  and  dcciared  that 
it  was  not  the  mother,  but  the  nurse  of  the 
child,  who  had  so  mysteriously  disappeared. 
Ho  a<lded  thiit  it  was  supposed  at  the  time 
that  the  nurse  was  secretly  married  to  one 
of  the  pirates,  and  had,  of  her  own  freo-wiU 


J. 


? 


iNl>  MAIR. 

raed  deeply  moved 
less  woman  lio  bad 
lotlier  waH  only  his 
I8t  iniduigbt  -Nvlieu 
n-e  tlioy  discussing 
new  liglit  thrown 

yer's  card  was  hand- 
iiiuiin.     lie  waited 
imoftlieinn.   They 
'  apartments,  where 
js  the  important  af- 
n.     The  lawyer  wan 
y  attired  in  black, 
n  of  French  profes- 
!r  had  all  the  precise 
f  the  old  school,  but 
rt  courtesy  be  veiled 
He  begged  them  to 
accurate  account  uf 
xrrival  upon  the  isl- 
r,  circnmMtances  at- 
5  conftrmei'i  the  land 
ry,  and  declared  that 
but  the  nurse  of  the 
urionsly  disappeared, 
supposed  at  the  time 
■rotly  married  to  one 
,  of  her  own  free-will 


SEVEN  YEAHS  AND  MAIU. 


81 


and  consent,  gone  with  the  marauding  crow. 
This,  however,  ho  said,  was  merely  a  current 
report,  which  liad  iittle  or  no  foundation, 
and  did  not  in  any  wise  affect  the  bearing^, 
of  the  case.  Ho  advised  them  to  lose  no 
time  in  waiting  upon  Madame  do  Montfau- 
cou,  to  whose  care  bad  been  intrusted  Mad- 
emoiselle Hdldne,  the  heiress  of  the  Douglas 
estate,  and  the  lixst  of  her  name.  IIo  prom- 
ised to  appoint  an  hour  when  they  might 
call  on  the  ladies  at  the  chateau,  and  discuss 
Eyvind's  claim  to  a  share  in  the  inheritance. 
The  inteiview  was  appointed  for  the  next 
daj-,  if  agreeable  to  the  ladies  ;  and  the  law- 
yer took  hi.s  leave,  promising  to  let  tliem 
know  the  Lour  for  their  visit  to  the  chfttean. 
6 


J! 


SEVEN  YEAB8  AND  MAIU. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"A  thon"htrul  cliild,  she  read  the  book  orXatm-c, 
ler  .pirit  wou  its  tone  f >o.u  danclns  Btream« ; 
Ami  the  bright  Btnile,  enlivening  every  fc"t"'c, 

lud  CiUight  new  radiance  from  the  sunny  beams. 
She  loved  each  flower  that  by  her  ways.de  bios- 

She  loved  the  bird  that  snn-  its  notes  of  g  ee ; 
And,  blending  with  all  Nature's  sweetes'.  voices, 
Arose  her  spirit's  gentle  -i-t,.elsy^^^_^  ^^^^^_ 


Harly  next  moriiinR  tliey  received  a  uoto 
from  the  lawyer,  appointing  the  lionr  of  elev- 
en for  their  interview  with  niadanio.     iol- 
lowing  one  of  the  pretty  little  cross-roacls, 
.X8  diveelea  by  the  landlord,  they  came,  after 
a  Bhort  walk,  to  a  sort  of  !^"'"«^  S'^^*^-;];"^'' 
hearing  the   armorial  ensigns   of  a   noblo 
family?    Thov  passed  through  the  arch,  and 
foH.ul  themselves  in  a  narrow  liUie  or  avc- 
nne,  still  strewn  with  the  fad.nl  garments 
of  the  doad  summer— the  sero  and  yellow 
leaves,  dank  with  moistnro ;   while,  rising 
from  amidst  this  desolation,  WiW  an  occa- 
sional pine-shrub,  standing  dreary  and  alouo, 


J_ 


ND  MAIR. 


8KVEX  YEAKS  AND  MAIR. 


83 


t  VI. 

the  book  of  Natme, 
in  dancins  streams ; 
ning  every  feature, 
from  the  snuny  beams. 
t  by  her  wayside  bloB- 

ntr  Its  notes  of  slee; 
ire's  sweetcs*  voices, 
uliistrclsy." 

Emma  Wood  Smitu. 

tliey  received  a  uoto 
;iiigtholiourofelcv- 
vith  iiiailiinie.    Fol- 
ty  littlo  cross-roads, 
ord,  tbey  ciuno,  after 
of  mined  Rate-way, 
ensigns   of  a   noblo 
lirongb  the  arch,  and 
narrow  lane  or  ave- 
tho  faded  garnienta 
the  sero  and  yellow 
isture ;    while,  rising 
lation,  was  an  occa- 
liiig  dreary  and  aloue, 


J. 


tlio  only  child  of  nature  that  had  survived 
the  austerity  of  winter.  Trees  still  stood  in 
their  accnstonied  places,  easting  skeleton- 
like  shadows  on  the  road.  Their  beautiful 
foliage  had  died  with  the  sweet  sounds  of 
nature,  died  w  ith  the  melancholy  October 
and  its  deceptive  brightness,  so  like  the 
ilush  on  the  faded  cheek  of  a  consumptive. 
The  wind  moaued  among  the  trees  as  they 
passed  with  a  soft,  musing  sound,  as  of  one 
who  pondered  geutlo  memories  of  a  happy 
post. 

The  friends  proceeded  along  the  avenue 
till  they  reached  a  high  wall — so  high,  in- 
deed, that  no  glimpse  of  the  chiUeau  could 
bo  had  above  it,  except  of  the  siinaro  par- 
apet or  tower  attached  to  the  left  wing. 
They  began  seriously  to  doubt  whether 
there  could  bo  any  signs  of  life  or  warmth 
beyond  that  great  barrier,  which  seemed  to 
cut  the  dwelling  olf  from  all  eoniuiuniea- 
tion  with  the  world.  Tliey  reached  the 
wide,  oaken  carriage-gate  giving  entrance 
to  the  court- yard  beyond,  and  paused  an 
instant  bef(;:e  they  raised  the  ponderous 
knocker.  It  resounded  through  the  court- 
ya:d ;  it  startled  the  cheerless  silence ;  but 
it  was  almost  immediately  answered  by  au 
old  servant  iu  dark  and  somewhat  faded 


ij    ii 


84  8EVKN  YEARS  AND  MAIU. 

livery.    PaRsing  in,  they  found  tbcmselyea 
in  a  Bpaoions  cnrt-yanl,  giving  uuexpccteil 
signa  of  life  and  activity.    It  was  ornan.eu  - 
ed  Nvith  niavblo  fountains,  standing  m  a  8    t 
of  pathetic  qniotudo,  rcniind.ng  one  that  tho 
stern  hand  of  winter  had  hecn  hud  on  then 
Zh  and  Bparklo.    Near  then,  the  perennu. 
Sure  of  son.e  hardy  plants  lent  the.r  hes 
etibrts  at  eheerfuh.ess  to  the  scene.     V.  «es 
and  statuary  stood  round  m  profiision.    Ho 
chateau  itself  ^vas  half  covered  Nvith   n  > , 
which  crept  thicUer  and  darker  up  the  pai- 
apet,  and  throngh  the  loop-holes  on  its  snm- 
nlit,  once  used  for  purposes  of  defense,     fhe 
old^vallaa«dtheirhigh,narrow,latt.ced^^.n- 
dows  looked  nnproniisingly  cold  and  gra> , 
sprinkled  hero  and  there  with  snow.     Just 
helow  the  steps  leading  to  the  principal  en- 
trance was  a  sundial,  that,  even  in  *!>« '""l- 
snmnier,  kept,  unnoticed,  its  record  of  the 
shining  hours  and  watched,  with  unshared 
joy,  for  the  sun's  warm  beams  all  throngh 
the  long  day  of  sunshine. 

Eric  and  Eyvind  looked  around  tlieni. 
Servants  were  hurrying  hither  and  thither 
Nearly  all  were  old,  and  nearly  a  1  dressed 
with  a  ciuaint  sombreness  that  struck  the 
voung  men  as  in  harmony  ^vith  t>e  scone 
The  men  wore  the  quiirterings  of  the  family 


on 
ve 

\V( 

dii 
lej 
cit 
sic 
th 
su 
ch 
no 

cd 
an 

rai 
sh. 

8t£ 

an 
th 
wl 
fa( 
wi 
mi 
coi 
tiq 
til: 
till 
ch 
pri 


-*^-?|iSii^gi.5BW^WS»«s»*='"' 


m  MAIR. 

found  tbcraselvos 
jiviiij;  uucxpcctfil 
'it  wii8  ornanieiit- 
stiinding  in  a  sort 
iidiiig  onoiliat  tlio 
1)0011  kiiil  on  their 
thorn  the  v><!r''ntu'>l 
lilts  lent  their  best. 

tho  scene.     Vhros 
in  profusion.    Tho 
covorod  witli  ivy, 
dnrker  np  the  par- 
)p-h(ilos  on  its  siiin- 
,08  of  defonso.    Tho 
larrow,  latticed  win- 
igly  cold  and  gray, 
iTwitli  Hiiow.     Jnst 
to  tho  principal  cn- 
at,  even  in  the  mid- 
d,  its  record  of  tho 
jhod,  witli  unshared 
1  beams  all  throiigli 

oked  around  them. 
;  hitlier  and  thither, 
d  nearly  all  dressed 
less  that  struck  tho 
lony  with  tho  scene, 
tcv'inga  of  tho  family 


SEVEN  YBAU8  AND  MAIR. 


m 


on  tho  buttons  of  their  livery,  and  on  tho  sil- 
ver buckles  of  their  shoos.  Jiotli  men  and 
wonieii  boro  themselves  with  a  sort  of  sub- 
dued chei'rfiiliieNH,\vliich  reminded  Erie  of  the 
legend  of  tlio  Shn-ping  Triiicess  and  her  lui- 
eieiit  retainers  starting  suddenly  from  their 
sleep  of  centuries.  Yet,  in  point  of  fact, 
their  costnmo  and  demeanor  were  simply 
such  as  Kiii^lit  bo  found  in  any  old  French 
chdteau,  wliero  inoderu  encroachments  had 
not  found  their  way. 

However,  Erie  and  his  friend  were  usher- 
ed into  the  hall,  where  they  were  met  by 
an  old  mailre  d' hotel,  or  major-domo,  who 
rang  for  my  lady's  maid.  Then  tliey  were 
shown  into  tho  drawing -rooms;  vast  and 
stately  apartments,  with  floors  of  stained 
and  polished  walnut.  High  wainscoting  of 
tho  same  reached  half-way  up  tho  wall, 
where  it  was  met  by  draperies  of  rich,  but 
faded,  liowerod  silk.  Tho  windows,  covered 
with  heavy  curtains  of  similar  material,  ad- 
mitted only  a  dim,  dusky  liglit,  mercifully 
concealing  the  ravages  of  time  on  tho  an- 
tique furniture,  that  was  of  quaint  and  old- 
time  character,  each  piece  surmounted  by 
tiio  arms  of  tho  Douglases.  The  tables  and 
cliimney-pieco  were  covered  with  ornanionts 
principally  of  Sfevres  and  tho  like,  of  which 


f.l 


8f) 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


some  wore  very  odd,  and  all  of  considerable 

As  the  visitors  examined  tbo  room,  a  lady 
entered  — entered  with  a  peculiar    stately 
craee,  and  a  K»'iitle, noiseless  step.     S  lo  wi'» 
tall  an<l  iiiiely  built,  tondinf?  somewliat  to- 
ward tliat  comfortable  condition  of  muldlc- 
life  known  as  embonpoint.     Her  liair  was  ar- 
van-ed  in  heavy  bands,  coininK  down  upon 
her^forehead;  her  face  and  manner  were 
hauKhty,yet  gracious;  disnitied,yet  aUable. 
Her  dress  was  rich,  dark,  and  phun ;  her 
mornins-cap,  edged  with  iino  lace      As  she 
approached  them  she  bowed,  and  at  once 
addressed  herself  to  Eric,  speaking  Luglish 
with  ease  and  llnency. 

"  Monsieur  Manriu  prepared  mo  lor  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  this  morning,  she 
said,  "and  has  also  informed  mo  of  the  pur- 
pose'of  your  visit  to  Tonraine." 

"  Tlien  it  will  spare  us,  madamc,"  said 
Ei-ic  "  the  necessity  of  inflicting  the  details 
upon  yon.  But,  if  you  do  not  object,  we 
would  like  to  have  your  opinion  on  the 
validity  of  the  claim." 

« Pardon  me,  monsieur,"  said  madamc,  still 
keeping  her  eyes  upon  his  face;  "but  are 
yon  the  claimant  to  the  Douglas  title  and 
estate?" 


she 

clal 

ti 

did 
hur 

bef. 

11 

ing; 

i( 

aski 

ma( 
the 
the 
mor 
tatv 
stra 
Yon 
a  m 

She 


;d  MAin. 

ill  of  consiileraWo 

il  tbo  room,  a  Imly 
,  pccnliiiv  stately 
3HH  stpp.  She  wim 
linn  soiupwhat  to- 
iiilition  of  iniddk'- 
]  \vv  hair  wn»  iir- 
()iiiiii«  down  tipou 
iinil  niixnucr  woio 
unified,  yctii (Table, 
k,  and  plain  ;  licr 
lino  laco.  As  she 
owed,  and  at  once 
,  speaking  English 

eparcd  mo  for  tlio 
tins  moruing,"  she 
mod  nio  of  the  pur- 
rainc." 

lis,  madame,"  said 
nflicting  tlio  details 

do  not  object,  wo 
lur  opinion  on  the 

,"  said  madame,  still 
his  faco  ;  "  bnt  are 
0  Douglas  title  aiul 


8KVEN  YEAH8  AND  MAIIl. 


w 


"  No,  madame," said  Eric,  "  it  is  my  friend, 
who  is  Nupposed  to  bo  <ho  son  of  the  lato 
Hobcrt  and  Marguerito  Dongla.s." 

Madame  tnrned  and  lookisd  long  and  ear- 
nestly at  Eyvind.  It  seemed  as  if  she  wore 
trying  to  roeail  some  faco  or  faces  in  the 
past,  or  to  discover  some  resemblance. 

"So  yon  aro  tiio  heir  of  tiie  Donglasesf" 
she  said,  slowly,  "or,  at  least,  Hneh  is  your 
claim." 

"Ihit,  nmdame,"  said  Eyvind,  eagerly,  "  I 
did  not  first  advanct!  such  a  claim.  Yonr 
lawyer  communicated  with  nio  several  times 
before  I  came  here." 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  said  madame,  still  mus- 
ingly ;  "  he  gave  mo  all  tlio  details." 

"  And  what  is  your  opiniou  of  the  affair?" 
a«ked  Eric. 

'•  I  liavo  as  yet  formed  no  opinion,"  saiil 
madame,  "  but  I  beg  you  to  believe  that  if 
the  claim  bo  proved  valid  it  will  afford  mo 
the  greatest  pleasure,  for  no  one  can  regret 
more  sincerely  than  I  that  the  Douglas  es- 
tatt^  must  eventually  pass  into  tlio  hands  of 
strangers,  if  tho  heir  should  not  bo  found. 
You  have,  I  understand,  a  locket  coutaiuiug 
a  miniatnre :  may  I  see  it  ?" 

She  took  it,  and  examined  it  attentively. 
Slio  opened  it,  and  saw  therein  the  dark, 


J_ 


m 


8KVKN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


pale  fuco  Ola  woniiui,  with  blink  hnir  waved 
low  upon  her  foiclioud,  Bolt,  (liemiiy  eye>*, 
anil  Hiiuill,  limply  curved  uiontli.  IJdow  tlio 
portrait,  nii  ilin  rim  of  tbo  locket,  wore  tlio 
initials,  M.  1'. 

"Tliut  is  iiiKloubtodly  Marguerite  Doug- 
Jan,"  said  luadauio,  without  raining  her  eyes 
from  tlio  portrait,  "just  as  I  knew  her  long 
ago." 

The  young  men  fancied  they  Haw  a  tear 
npou  her  cheek,  but  it  might  have  been  only 
fancy. 

"Tbo  portrait  of  her  husband  m  on  tlio 
other  Bide,  madanie,"  »)b.«terved  Eric,  and  nia- 
rtame  turned  the  locket.  She  saw  Ibere  a 
fair-li  liicd  and  blno-eycd  man,  hancUonio, 
dashing,  and  reckless,  with  a  proud  frank- 
ness ami  an  almost  boyish  happiness  in  his 
face.  This  time  tlio  tear  wa  a  reality,  and 
rolled  down  inadamo's  cheek  aud  on  to  her 
Bali II  gown. 

"  That  is  my  friend,"  she  Buid,  "  as  ho  was 
twenty  years  ago,  before  sorrow  had  begun 
to  tell  upon  him— that  great  sorrow  of  his 
life  which  brciiiglit  him  to  an  early  grave." 

Then,  after  a  pause,  slio  said,  raising  her 
eyes  to  look  at  Eyviiid,  "You  do  not  resem- 
ble your  father.  If  you  are  really  a  Doug- 
las in  uamo,  you  are  a  Stewart  in  appcar- 


nnt 
the 
iuti 
i 
thr 
wii 
am 
am 
ed 
riel 
ofi 
cer 
tun 
Till 

IllU! 
IICII 

bo 

fat! 

saw 

waf 

wit 

lla.\ 

boy 

the 

Dot 

act 

Mai 

of  li 

Btru 


II 


jL 


W  MAIR. 

1 1)I(uk  linir  waved 
iol't,  (heiiiny  cy«H, 
1011  til.  lU-low  tlio 
0  locket,  were  tlio 

MarRncrito  Doiig- 
it  niiHini;  lit'i'  eyes 
IS)  I  know  her  long 

(1  tlicy  Haw  a  tear 
jbt  liavo  bcoii  only 

liiisbaiul  in  on  tlio 
irvi'd  Eric,  and  nia- 
Slio  k;\w  tliere  a 
[■(I  man,  linnilsonic, 
ith  a  proud  frunk- 
ih  liapiiinoss  in  his 
f  wii '  a  reality,  anil 
lieek  and  on  to  her 

he  said,  "  as  ho  was 
(  sorrow  had  begun 
great  sorrow  of  his 
to  an  early  grave." 
ho  said,  raising  her 
'  You  do  not  resem- 
i  arc  really  a  Dong- 
Stewart  in  appoar- 


BEVEN    VEAttS  AND  MAIH. 


89 


anco.  And  now,  if  you  wish,  we  will  visit 
tlio  pieliiio-gallery.and  coni|mio  these  wiu- 
iatnres  with  tlni  original  porMuitH." 

Hlio  rose  m  hIid  Hpoke,  and  hading  ill*"!!! 
through  a  variety  of  long  eorridors  and 
winding  |)!i«8ageH,  opened  an  arelied  door 
and  nslieied  ttiein  inio  ,i  room,  long,  low, 
and  lit  fitnn  above.  The  walls  were  cover- 
ed with  portraits — men  and  women  in  a  va- 
riety of  costumes,  each  bearing  the  stamp 
of  its  (lunti  I  V.  Madamo  led  them  toward  a 
certain  portion  of  the  room  where  tlio  cos- 
tumes were  more  modern:  hero  she  paused. 
Tiiey  saw  lirst  a  tall,  gray- haired  man,  with 
massive  head  and  brow,  jiierc  ing  eyes,  and 
lienevolent  month.  Madame  declared  it  to 
bo  Ihat  of  Kobert  Douglas  the  elder,  grand- 
father t)f  the  proHcnt  heiress.  Next  they 
saw  that  of  Uoberu  Douglas  the  younger.  It 
was  unnecessary  to  comparo  the  miniature 
with  it;  there  were  tho  same  half-cnrliiig 
(laxen  hair,  tiio  blue,  laiigliing  eyos,  tho 
boyish  mouth  and  chin.  They  needed  not 
tho  inscription  boneath  —  Kobert,  Viscount 
Douglas.  iJesido  him  was  his  wife,  tho  ex- 
act counter[)art  of  tho  niiniatiiro,  and,  as 
Madanio  do  M<mtfancon  readily  perceived, 
of  Eyvind.  Looking  at  him,  the  resemblaneo 
struck  her  immediately — the  same  face,  tho 


■sssa 


90 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAlft. 


sarno  flunio,  and,  m  slio  so  well  reinombeml, 
tho  miino  v(.i<u>  and  iniuuier.     In  lu-r  iniiul, 
at  l.-a»t,  luiktMl  I'o  <»«'»>>t  •'"^t  tho  hoir  of 
tho  DonnluHCH  was  in  iuuhchco  ol  his  ances- 
tors.   Tli.'.v  wliil.Ml  away  an  hour  or  inoro 
ainoiiL'  tho  Htafly  kiiif?htH  an<l  la.lics  of  a 
bv-uono  n-o,  who   ill  BohMiin   (li-mty   h»<l 
huuK  upon  tho  wall,  whih.  yoars  an.l  oy,-,, 
centuries  hi..l  n.ll.'<l  hy,  uu.l  tho  tn-es  that 
Hhadfil  tho  wiii(U)WH  had  roacliod  to  a  groat 
height,  and  tho  grass  gn.wn  highor  aiui  luoro 
luxuriant  without  in  tho  gro.'ii  all(>ys  ol  tho 
nark,  and  tho  faces  of  thoir  doHcondauts  one 
bv  Olio  imsHcd  away  into  tho  church-yard, 
c'lviiiK  idaco  to  others.    Tho  last  in  tho  long 
lino  of  portraits  was  that  of  a  young  girl. 
Madanio,i)aiiHinghi"foroit,snid, 

"  This  is  Madonioisollo  Hdlijiu-,  tho  present 
possessor  of  tho  estate."  ,    .  ,  .  , 

Thev  almost  wondered  at  tho  bright  .joy- 
OUS1.C88  of  tho  face;  tho  half- parted  lips, 
tho  sniilo  that  provoked  an  aimwcring  ono 
from  tho  gazers;  tho  cyos  soft,  dark,  and 
childish,  tho  hair  black,  and  curling  a  littlo 
upon  tho  forehead;  tho  attitude  graceful, 
easy,  and  unalfectcd.  A  rare  picture  she 
made  in  tho  graciousncss  of  youth  and  beau- 
ty filling  her  place  in  the  proud  and  noblo 
assemblage  through  whoso  veins  coursed 


>B> 


If 


ID  MAin. 

well  r«Mnoinl)cro(1, 
lor.  In  Ikt  iniml, 
,  tliat  ilio  licir  of 
lOllfiO  of  lii«  (viiccs- 
ivu  lioiir  or  iiioro 
tH  iiiid  lailieH  of  a 
Iciiin  ai-^iiity  liml 
It)  ypnrn  mi'l  «vt'ii 

;lll<i  lll(!   tri'i^s  tllllt 

rciicliod  to  a  Rroiit 
VII  liij,'lii'r  ivittl  more 
Urci^ii  alli\v«of  tlio 
■ir  (U'scciidaiitH  one 
()  (111)  cliiirch-ynnl, 
riio  laKt  ill  tholong 
[It  of  a,  young  girl. 

it,  Hll'ul, 

n615iu-,  tho  present 

1  Bt  tlio  bright  joy- 

0  lialf-imrtod  lips, 

1  an  answering  ono 
■yes  Hoft,  dark,  and 
and  curling  a  littlo 
B  attitndo  graceful, 
A  ran*  iiicturo  bIio 
sof  youtli  andbeau- 
;ho  proud  and  ncddo 
hoso  veins   coursed 


^.g)IW<WiJj»HMaJt!J!.fe 


>%. 


^J  Aft.       >     %^        -^S^^ 


V 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


lew 


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[2.2 
2.0 

1.8 


1-4  mil  1.6 


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^     ^^' 


Photographic 

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Corporation 


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SEVKN  YEAU8  AND  MAIH. 


91 


tlio  life-blood  of  a  hundred  earls.  Such  a 
incturo  did  JltUcne  herself  make,  roaming 
with  girlish  freedom  through  the  dark  cor- 
ridors of  the  ancestral  chilteau,  inaying  in 
the  ancient  Gothic  chapel,  or  receiving  guests 
in  the  stately  drawing-rooms. 

Leaving  tlio  picture-gallery,  madame  cor- 
dially invited  the  gentlemen  to  rensain  and 
diuo :  dinner  was  always  at  mid-day.  They 
consented  the  more  willingly,  that  both  had 
a  curiosity  to  meet  tlio  original  of  the  last 
portrait  in  the  gallery.  Just  as  dinner  was 
announced  she  glided  into  the  drawing- 
room  ;  and  they  could  have  fancied  she  had 
slipped  from  her  frame  and  appeared  before 
them.  The  same  bird-like  joyousness,  the 
same  unconscious  grace,  the  same  rich  col- 
oring, the  same  dark,  happy  eyes.  When 
madame  presented  the  gentlemen,  she  greet- 
ed them  with  an  case  that  partook  of  iiait'c^e. 
Madame,  however,  made  no  allnsion  to  the 
object  of  their  visit.  Dnring  dinner  the  con- 
versation was' on  general  subjects.  Oidy 
Eric,  turning  to  Hdlisue,  spoke  of  their  visit 
to  the  picture-gallery. 

"And  did  monsieur  find  pleasure  in  look- 
ing at  tlie  portraits  T"  she  asked  him. 

"A  very  great  deal  of  pleasure,  mademoi- 
selle," replied  Jlric,  heartily;  "it  was  most 
interesting,  I  assure  you." 


92 


SEVEN  YEAKS  AND  MAIR. 


"I  lovo  tlicm  myself,"  sbo  said,  "tboiigh 
I  have  seen  them  every  day  since  my  cbild- 
hood.  I  go  there  in  the  afternoon  when  the 
sun  is  ahnost  shut  out  by  the  trees.  I  fancy 
all  kinds  of  thiugs  about  them,  and  I  forget 
where  I  am  till  it  has  become  dark.  Then 
I  am  frightened,  aud  I  run  out  of  the  room 
sbiveringi" 

"  Why  shonlvl  you  feel  afraid,  mademoi- 
selle?" said  Eric,  smiling. 

"  Because  I  have  read  all  the  old  legendca 
about  them,  and  soino  of  them  were  cruel 
and  wicked,  aud  I  fear  tbem." 

Meanwhile  madame  chatted  affably  with 
Ey  vind,  who,  it  must  be  confessed,  was  some- 
what awkwai-d  and  constrained,  till  the  din- 
ner was  pretty  well  advanced. 

Soon  after  they  arose  from  .ao  table  the 
gentlemen  took  their  leave,  cbarnnd  with 
their  morning  at  the  chateau,  and  looking 
forward  eagerly  to  a  renewal  of  it.  To  Eric 
especially  tliis  esisy,  informal  intercourae, 
the  nameless  charm  felt  ia  tlio  society  of 
refined  women,  was  peculiarly  attractive, 
and  bo  remembered  that  morning  as  a  green 
spot  in  the  long  bustle  and  turmoil  of  tbo 
last  five  years.  On  their  return  to  the  inn 
they  found  M.  Mauriu  awaiting  them.  He 
had  been  searching  among  various  dooii- 


-  -.^x^S^ia^iiKSA-Hi  "S*^  v^ 


)  AND  MAIR. 

f,"Klio  sai«l,  "tbongh 
y  day  since  n»y  cbild- 
e  afternoon  when  tbo 
by  tbo  trees.  I  fancy 
int  tboni,  and  I  forget 
beconio  dark.  Tben 
ruu  out  of  the  room 

feel  afraid,  raadcmoi- 

ad  all  tbo  old  legendes 
i  of  tbeni  were  crnel 

•  tbein." 

cbatted  affably  with 
e  confessed,  wassonie- 
nstrained,  till  the  diu- 
Ivanced. 
ISO  from  ..10  table  the 

•  leave,  cbarniod  with 
chateau,  and  looking 

•enewalofit.  To  Eric 
informal  intorcouree, 
felt  in  tbo  society  of 
peculiarly  attractive, 
lat  nmrning  as  a  green 
tie  and  turnioil  of  tbo 
heir  return  to  the  inn 
1  awaiting  them.  He 
among  various  docn- 


SKVKN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


93 


mcnts  and  papers  relating  to  the  case,  and 
examining  witnesses  who  bad  known  tbo 
circuiiistances  of  Marguerite  Dubois's  disap- 
pearance with  the  infant  heir  of  the  Doug- 
lases, and  lio  assured  tlieui  that  there  was 
every  reason  to  expect  the  speedy  establish- 
ment of  tbo  claim.    Ho  said  that  the  papers 
found  iu  the  possession  of  tho  dead  woman 
threw  a  strong  liglit  on  tlio  long  mystery, 
being  a  sort   of  confession,  which  clearly 
proved  that  Marguerite  Dubois  did  in  reali- 
ty consent  to  a  plan  by  which  her  husband, 
Armand  Dubois,  a  pirate,  proposed  to  abduct 
the  infant  son  of  Robert  Douglas,  hoping  to 
obtain  a  large  ransom.    It  was  probably  in 
a  tit  of  remorse  that  tho  woman  hung  round 
Eyvind's  neck  tho  locket  with  the  two  min- 
iatures, and  containing  a  scrap  of  paper  bear- 
ing the  inscription : 

"  This  child  I  do  decJrrc  to  he  the  son  of  Hob- 
ert  and  Marguerite  Douglas,  ahducicd  by  Ar- 
mand Duhois,  ifilh  my  knowledge  and  asaistanee. 
Signed,  M.  Dubois," 

This  scrap  was  carefnlly  inserted  between 
tho  miniature  and  the  back  of  the  locket, 
and  was  discovered  by  tho  merest  accident. 
However,  as  M.  Manrin  said,  it  was  a  pretty 
conclusive  proof  of  Eyvind's  identity,  when 


g^liOSBasa^iss'**'-'"^"- 


94 


BETEN  YEAHS  AND  MAIR. 


coupled  with  liia  icmavknWo  resemblance  to 
the  miiiiaturo  ami  origiiml  portrait.  lie  cou- 
cratulatcd  him  on  the  probahility  of  lus  en- 
tering into  possession  of  a  fine  estate,  unci 
that  at  no  distant  day.  After  which  hu  took 
his  leave,  promising,  as  bolore,  to  follow  up 
the  case. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  At  length  n  sail  appears  In  slsht ; 
'Tis  Wealth  that  come?,  and  gay  and  hrlgUt 
HiB  golden  bark  rettccta  the  light. 
But  ah  !  It  Is  not  Love's. 

"Another  sall-'twas  Friendship  show'd 
Her  night-lnmp  o'er  the  Boa  ; 
And  calm  the  light  that  lamp  bestow  d  ; 
Bnt  Love  had  lights  that  warmer  glow  d ; 
And  where,  alas  1  was  he  ?"  Moon*. 

For  some  weeks  the  yonns  men  remained 
at  the  inn,  enjoying  themselves  to  the  InU- 
eat  extent  in  exploring  the  conntry  rouna, 
sailing  or  rowing  upon  the  Loire,  which, 
though  blue  enough  at  times  when  the  sKy 
above  casta  down  its  azure  reflection,  they 
foutul  to  be  for  the  most  part  a  much  duller 
aud  muddier  stream  thau  the  ballads  ot  the 


4 


LKD  MAIR. 

nl)le  rcsoniblance  to 
ilportiiiit.  Ilecou- 
robal)ility  of  h'ia  cn- 
if  a  fine  estate,  uiul 
After  which  ho  took 
before,  to  follow  up 


R  VII. 

9  in  Bisht ; 

I,  nsid  si\y  aud  bright 

a  the  light, 

■o'B. 

ieiulshlp  sliow'd 

Me  sea ; 

it  Inmi)  bestow'd ; 

lat  warmer  glow'd ; 

18  her 

Moonf. 

yoting  men  remained 
leinselvea  to  the  fnll- 
g  the  country  rouucl, 
on  the  Loire,  which, 
t  times  when  the  sky 

azure  reflection,  they 
ist  part  a  ninch  duller 
hau  the  ballads  of  tbo 


SEVEN  YEAHS  AND  MAIR.  95 

country  or  the  pen  of  romancers  had  led 
tliem  to  believe.     Yet  the  days  aud  tlie  twi- 
lijjlits  they  spent  upon  it  were  very  beauti- 
ful; and  taouf;li  they  found  it  a  great  con- 
trast to  the  many -phased  ocean,  tlioy  thor- 
oughly enjoyed  it.     Sometimes,  at  evening, 
tlie  varied  colors  of  the  sunset  sky  fell  ou 
tlie  waters  and  relieved  their  dull  common- 
place; fell,  too,  in  warm,  hazy  mists,  upon 
the  old  wall  or  embankment,  placed  npou 
the  left  bank  of  the  Loire,  to  prevent  the  en- 
croachments of  the  water.    Tbo  wall  was 
damp  and  mouldy,  crumbling  a  little  in 
some  places,  and  leaving  openings— beyond 
the  water-level,  however,  aud  therefore  nev- 
er repaired.     To  the  left  lay  a  dreary  waste 
of  level  land,  over  which  the  water  flowed 
unrestrained;  far  above  on  the  cliffs  wcio 
old,  time -worn  dwellings,  built  in  the  soft 
rock,  which  had  stood  there  from  an  imme- 
morial period.     In  these  the  peasants  had 
made  their  homes,  secure  from  the  d.inger 
of  inundation.     Sometimes,  at  evening,  aa 
the  young  men  drifted  quietly  down  the 
river  in  the  amber   haze  of  the   evening 
light,  boatmen  passed  them  singing  the  bal- 
lads of  the  coinitry ;  aud  once  a  chorus  of 
two  or  three  voices  sung,  as  they  swept  past 
them, 


^^^^sgaEvi3aaBasi.-s»«i.^»^ 


06  SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIU. 

"O  belle  riviere 
O  cliiirmniito  ni-lle, 
'  O  (li)iico  campngMo, 

O  pays  iraiKiHillc  j" 

anil  wlien  tlio  voicoa  diwl  away  in  tlie  tlis- 
tance,  Eyviiiu  told  his  friend  li«  recognized 
tlio  air  ius  one  the  crazy  woman  ncjd  to  sing 
in  tlio  lint  at  1  onla. 

When  tboy  moored  their  boat  tliat  even- 
ing, it  was  darlf,  and  tlio  stars  had  softly 
Htolen  out,  trembling  and  faint,  o  or  the 
dark  river,  wliich  was  just  lowing  the  deep 
flnsh  cast  npon  it  by  tlio  red  sun. 

At  such  times  the  yoniig  men  couhl  boliovo 
themselves  back  by  sea-washed  Foula,  and 
lived  over  again  the  old  days  of  their  friend- 
ship, the  bond  between  tlioni  growing  strong- 
er and  stronger.  They  remained  at  the 
inn,  and  made  occasional  calls  of  ceremony 
at  the  chateau,  calls  which  began  to  lose 
their  ceremonions  character,  and  bccanio 
visits  of  friendship.  However,  it  was  still 
mid-winter  when  M.  Manrin  declared  that 
Eyvind,  the  nameless  waif,  tossed  by  the  sea 
on  a  cheerless  shore,  was  the  real,  nndispntcd 
heir  to  the  great  estate  left  by  the  late  Rob- 
ert Viscount  Donglas.  Madame  do  Mont- 
faucon  received  tho  intelligonco  with  the 
greatest  equanimity.    It  made,  after  all,  but 


a 
n 

M 

VII 

w 
ti 
tl 

C( 

ei 
b: 
ni 
hi 
ti 
as 
w 

g> 
tl 
cc 

01 

ki 

ai 

ov 

cl 

bi 

si! 

a 

tb 

di 

ev 


NU  MAIR. 


SKVBN  YEARS  AND  MATR. 


97 


3 

lillOi" 

id  away  in  the  ilis- 
it'iid  lit)  recognized 
voniaii  uc'jd  to  sing 

eir  boat  that  evon- 
10  Htnis  had  softly 
ml  fniut,  o  '.>r  the 
1st  hmiiig  the  deep 
red  Hiin. 
g  iiKin  could  boliovo 

washed  Foula,  and 
ilaysof  Ihoirfriciid- 
uii)  growing  stroiig- 
f  remained  at  the 
.1  calls  of  ceremony 
hicli  began  to  lose 
actor,  and  became 
owovcr,  it  was  still 
fturin  declared  that 
lif,  tossed  by  the  sea 
the  real,  undisputed 
eft  by  the  late  Kob- 

Madamo  de  Mont- 
telligonco  with  the 
;  made,  after  all,  but 


a  slight  difforcnco  to  her.  She  would  of 
necessity  retain  her  position  as  chaperone  to 
Mademoiselle  Douglas.  The  young  heiress, 
whom  slio  certainly  loved  as  a  daughter, 
would  still  bo  iu  possession  of  a  largo  por- 
tion of  her  fortune,  ami  her  own  interest  in 
the  ancient  house  made  her  rejoice  in  its 
continuance  in  the  direct  line.  As  for  Mad- 
emoiselle ll(^16ne,  she  was  overjoyed:  the 
happiness  of  having  a  brother  far  overbal- 
anced, iu  her  unworldly  mind,  the  loss  of 
half  her  fortnne.  It  was  true,  her  new  rela- 
tive had  not  fallen  very  easily  into  his  plac« 
as.yot.  It  was  not  in  his  reserved  tind  some- 
what reticent  nature  to  form  new  ties  with 
great  facility ;  but  when  it  began  to  be  clear 
that  he  was  the  lovely  IWlfene's  brother,  ho 
certainly  did  make  an  effort,  and  no  trifling 
one,  to  act  toward  her  with  all  fraternal 
kindness  and  affection.  This  her  simplicity 
and  childishness  made  the  more  easy,  and 
oven  before  his  rights  were  formally  de- 
clared, the  future  Viscount  Douglas  found 
himself  on  tolerably  good  terras  with  his 
sister.  Eric,'too,  ha<l  fallen  more  or  leas  into 
a  sort  of  easy  intercourse  with  the  i>eoplo  at 
the  chateau.  He  enjoyed  going  in  and  out, 
dining  or  supping  with  them ;  spending  cosy 
eveningSjUot  iu  the  stately  drawing-rooms, 
7 


98 


SEVEN  YEAWS  AND  MAIR. 


bnt  ill  a  sort  of  morning-room,  where  cvery- 
tl.iiiR  was  brighter,  moro  cheerful,  ami  more 

At  Iu8t  tlio  ovcnlful  day  arnvcil  when 
Evviu.1  was  to  take  hi»  place  m  seigneur  ot 
tlio  chfttean,  aiul  bo  presented  in  that  light 
to  his  people.     The  eoiemoi.y  was.iu  wmio 
respects,  a  religious  one.     It  opono.l  with  a 
solemn  high  muss.     The  church  was  crowd- 
cd     Tlio  Douglas  pow  was  wreathed  witli 
evergreens  and  llowors;   in  it  sat  Madame 
do  Montfaucon  with  Mademoiselle  Douglas, 
tho  Olio  richly,  the  other  simply  but  protti- 
Iv.  attired,  as  suited  their  respective  ages. 
Eric  and  his  friend  sat  in  a  pew  opposite,  and 
were  naturally  tho  observed  of  all  observ- 
ers. Perhaps,  after  them,  the  most  prominent 
person  in  the  assemblage  was  an  old  man- 
tier,  who  ha<l  lirst  brought  tidings  to  the  vil- 
lage that  a  woman  and  an  inlant  had  been 
saved  from  a  wreck  on  tho  island  of  loula, 
both  of  whom  coiTcsponded,  in  almost  every 
detail,  to  those  who  had  disappeared  irom 
Touraino  years  before.     Hence  he  was  very 
lastly  vogardod  as  having  played  a  very  im- 
portant part  in  the  drama  of  the  day.     He 
sat  in  the  church,  indeed,  swelling  with  im- 
portance, his  weather -beaten  countenance 
beaming  with  complacency.    However,  the 


Vm  MAIR- 

-room,  wliero  overy- 
3  cbcerful,  ami  uioro 

(lay  arrived  when 
pliico  ivH  HoiKiieiir  of 
soiitcd  in  that  liglit 
oniony  wiut,  iu  sonio 
;.  It  opened  with  a 
3  church  was  crowd- 

VVU8  wreathed  witli 
i;  in  it  sat  Madiinio 
idenioiscUe  Douglas, 
ar  simply  hut  pretti- 
icir  respective  ages, 
n  a  pew  opposite,  and 
served  of  all  ohserv- 
11,  the  most  prominent 
igo  was  an  old  mari- 
Khttidings  totho  vil- 
d  an  infant  had  been 
1  the  island  of  Foula, 
ndcd,  in  almost  every 
lad  disappeared  from 
Hence  he  was  very 
ing  played  a  very  im- 
•ama  of  the  day.    He 
sed,  swelling  with  im- 
-heateu  countenance 
,cenoy.    However,  the 


8KVKN  YKAR8  AND  MAfH. 


99 


cnr6  ni)pcan!d  on  the  altar,  niass  began,  the 
clioir  chatitcd  the  beautiful  Uregorian  nuiH.s, 
and  the  little  organ  peaUtd  out  its  siniplu 
but  miijcstiu  straiim.  When  it  was  ended, 
the  cnri^  dosccnded  to  the  railing,  and  pre- 
sented Kyvind,  who  then  advanced,  to  Iho 
iissiimbled  people  as  the  future  seigneur  of 
the  soil ;  gave  him  his  father'n  sword,  in  to- 
ken tliat  ho  was  bound  to  i>rotoct  his  teii- 
nntry  and  retainers;  offered  him,  on  a  gold- 
en plate,  the  keys  of  the  chAtean,  as  token 
that  he  thus  invested  him  Avith  the  mano- 
rial tenure;  and,  lastly,  placed  the  coronet 
upon  his  head.  At  the  commencement  of 
this  ceremony  the  choir  sung  tlio  rent  Crea- 
tor, then  burst  into  the  triumphal  strain  of 
Landa  Hion,  and  concluded  with  the  Magnifi- 
cat. Wiien  the  iuvestituro  was  ended,  the 
curd  intoned  the  Te  JJciim,  which  was  in- 
stantly taken  up  by  the  choir,  and  with  this 
the  proceedings  closed. 

When  the  congregation  streamed  out  of 
the  church,  it  was  a  glorious  noonday.  The 
morning  had  been  gray  and  cloudy,  but  the 
clouds  had  all  dispersed,  and  the  sky  was 
blue  and  dear.  It  was  one  of  those  days  of 
sunshine  that  cheers  the  heart,  and  fills  tho 
mind  with  pleasant  thoughts  and  happy  im- 
ages.   It  seemed  a  good  omen  for  tho  bright 


f 


100 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIB. 


ftitnro  opening  Itcforo  tlio  oiio<'  denpigeil  ftiiil 
porsocutoil  Eyviiul.    On  l.-iiviiiB  tlio  church, 
the  party  fniin  tlio  chAtutui  at  oiico  entered 
the  ciirrut«0H  and  drove  thither.      Uo»ide» 
nmdame,  inmlcnioiHoUe,  and  the  young  men, 
the  ciirrt  Ijad  been  invited,  al«o  M.  Maurin, 
the  little  lawyer.      The  StewartH  from  the 
nciuhhorinKHcignenry.beinK  nearly  connect- 
ed with  the  DousliiHCH,  were  also  hid.lfin  to 
the  fonst.     There  was  Visconnt  Stewart,  iv 
modinin  -  nixed,  Blemler  man  of  thirty,  fnlly 
possessed  with  his  own  iMiportance,  a  little 
dissipated  in  appenranee,  and  speaking  with 
a  painfully  atfeeted  drawl.     Tliere  was  his 
father,  taller,  bent  a  littlo  at  the  shouldors, 
with  a  keen,  cold  face,  and  a  calm,  critical 
glance,  which  uever  lost  anything  of  what 
was  passing  around  him.    H«  was  quiet  and 
courteous  in  manner,  and  wholly  free  from 
nffoctation  of  any  kind.    And,  lastly,  Agnftso 
Stewart,  a  (piiot,  coinmonplaco  young  girl, 
with  no  particular  trait  of  character  except 
a  great  awe  of  her  father,  and  a  reverential 
admiration  for  her  brother,  who.<jo  lightest 
word  was  law  to  her. 

When  they  reached  the  chateau,  an  ele- 
gant dinner  was  served.  During  its  prog- 
ress the  conversation  wns  extremely  ani- 
mated.   Visconnt  Stewart  drawled  out  va- 


,NU  MAIR< 

I  oncp  denpUeil  I»»<1 
IfiiviiiK  tho  cliiircli, 
•mi  at  oiico  (MitoriMl 
I  tliilhor.  HoHldcH 
ml  llio  yonnK  men, 
0(1,  also  M.  Maiirin, 
Htewartrt  tVoiii  tliu 
linn  ix'in'y  <'-in>"«ct- 
iver«  also  WiiMcu  to 
/iHooniit  Stewart,  iv 
nan  of  tlilrty,  tnlly 
iuiportniicoi  »  I'tt'" 
,an(l  upcakingwitli 
\vl.  TluMo  was  lii8 
lo  at  tho  shouldorB, 
anil  a  culm,  critical 
t  iiiiylliing  of  what 
.  n«  was  qniet  and 
111  wlioUy  free  from 

And,  lastly,  Agnfiuo 
onplaco  young  girl, 

of  character  except 
pr,  and  a  rovoreiitlal 
thor,  whoso  lightest 

tho  chfttean,  an  clc- 
l.  During  its  prog- 
was  extremely  ani- 
■art  drawled  out  va- 


BBVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


101 


rious  remarks  upon  people  aud  things  to  his 
cousin,  wiio  sat  next  him. 

"Ho  tiiin— I  li(>g  your  jtardon — your  broth- 
er, I  should  say,"  li»  olisurved, "  and  his  friend 
are — Laplanilfrs,  I  i)eliuvef" 

"  How  absurd,  Henri!"  said  H<^lftne,  a  lit- 
tle angrily.  "You  know  tho  Ijaplandors 
aro  Haui'injc.  Why,  then,  do  you  say  such  a 
thing!" 

"i'ardoi ,  mon  tinge,"  ho  t  ' ,  bestowing  n 
glance  and  smilo  on  her  which  he  believed 
had  i>ower  to  charm  tho  motit  ailamantino 
of  hearts;  "it  was  a  uiiHtako— as  they  say 
lu  English,  a  slip  of  tlio  tongue.  Hut  why 
docs  the  other  inlander  travel  witli  him  ?" 

"  He  is  his  friend,"  she  answered. 

"All  yes,  a  sort  of — i)ardon  me,  ma  inign- 
oiiue — I  was  about  to  say,  keeper." 

"You  are  rode,  Henri,"  said  TWl^ne,  an- 
grily,"  positively  rude.  I  will  not  have  it. 
You  sliall  not  speak  so  of  my  brother  aud 
his  friend." 

" Itlost  tyrannical  of  boanttims  cousins," 
ho  saitl,  "  I  am  only  teasing  you,  A  littlo 
temper  makes  you  so  chariaiiig." 

Here  Eric,  who  sat  oii  the  other  side  of 
Mademoiselle  H<516ue,  and  who  had  been  con- 
versing with  madauie  aud  tho  elder  Stewart, 
turned  and  spoke. 


«i«" 


102 


8EVEK  YEARS  AXD  MAIB. 


"So  j'ou  really  have  yonr  brother,"  he 
said,  smiliug;  "  yours  at  last,  by  the  right 
of investitine."  ».,„    , 

"  I  foel  very  happy  to  think  of  it,"  slio 
Siiiil,  tinning  hor  soft  eyes  to  him,  tho  color 
Btill  lingering  iu  her  face  from  the  recent 
opisoile— "  I  who  have  been  so  much  alone, 
for  I  hiul  no  one  but  Marraiue  to  care  for." 

rerhaps  tlicro  was  a  spice  of  feminine  re- 
sontment  in  tho  last  words,  intended,  as 
they  were,  for  her  cousin's  ear.  lie  listen- 
ed, liis  eyes  cast  down,  a  supercilious  smile 
playing  over  his  face. 

"  I  can  appreciate  tho  feeling,"  said  Erie, 
"and  can  readily  understand  wliat  it  must 
bo  to  come  iiiio  possession  of  a  brother." 

"Aiul  lose  a  portion  of  yonr  estate,"  said 
the  viscount,  joining  iu  tho  couversatiou 
with  cool  impertinence. 

Hellene  reddened.     Eric,  looking  at  tho 
viscount  with  perfect  composure,  answered, 
"  I  beg  pardon,  monsieur,  but  I  did  not 
catch  your  remark.    Might  I  beg  you  to  re- 
peat it?"  ,  ^, 

"It  would  not  boar  repetition,"  said  tho 
viscount,  carelessly.  "  Besides,  I  have  made 
it  so  often  to-day  that  I  am  becoming  weary 

of  it." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Eiic ;  "  theu  I  am  to  con- 


ss«Ka 


W*SftA*^«aMiM«M«M« 


KSD  MAIR. 

)  yonr  brother,"  lie 
t  last,  by  tbo  rigUt 

to  tliiiik  of  it,"  she 
res  to  him,  tbo  color 
ICC  from  tbo  recent 
boon  80  much  alone, 
rraiiie  to  care  for." 
spice  of  feminine  re- 
words, intended,  as 
iu's  ear.  He  listen- 
a  supercilions  smile 

0  feeling,"  said  Eric, 
rstand  what  it  nnist 
ion  of  a  brother." 

of  yonr  estate,"  said 
iu  the  couversatiou 

Eric,  looking  at  the 
omposnre,  answered, 
isienr,  bnt  I  did  not 
tight  I  beg  you  to  re- 
repetition,"  said  the 
Besides,  I  have  raado 

1  am  becoming  weary 

;  "  then  I  am  to  con- 


8EVEN  YEARS  AXD  MAIR. 


103 


aider  myself  most  unfortunate  in  having 
lost  it." 

There  seemed  to  bo  a  quiet  sarcasm  in  the 
perfect  courtesy  of  the  reunvrk  that  the  vis- 
connt  felt  and  resented. 

"  Yo..  were  about  to  tell  me,  nuulemoiselle," 
said  Eric,  without  giving  tlio  viscount  time 
to  answer,  "something  which  Monsieur 
Stewart's  remark  interrupted.  May  I  beg 
you  to  continue!" 

"  1  suppose  I  was  speaking  of  my  happi- 
ness," slie  said.  "  One  does  not  find  a  broth- 
er every  day,  and  a  brother  so  kind  and  at- 
tentive." 

"  Has  he  had  leisure  to  inspect  his  share 
of  the  estate!"  asked  the  viscount,  with  an 
ill-concealed  sneer. 

"I  think  not,"  answered  Eric,  looking 
steadily  at  the  viseonnt;  "  and  I  am  sure  i>;< 
would  be  indebted  for  your  company  in  vis- 
iting it,  you  seem  so  well  acquainted  with 
it." 

"  My  fathe-'s  sister  was  the  wife  of  tho 
iate  seigneur,"  said  the  viscount,  rcddeniuR  ; 
"  it  is  therefore  very  uatural  that  I  should 
know  it." 

"And  feel  so  deep  an  interest  therein," 
said  Fric,  again  with  quiet  sarcasm.  "  At 
fu-st  I  was  a  little  at  a  loss  to  understand 


r 


104 


SEVEN  YEAnS  AND  MAIR. 


yonr  eagerness  with  regard  to  it,  but  now, 
of  course,  I  am  not  surprised." 

Eric  turned,  as  before,  to  Mademoisello 
Douglas  and  continued  tbeir  conversation, 
as  if  bo  regarded  Stewart  in  tlie  ligbt  of  a 
meddler,  who  joins  in  a  discourse  where  be 
is  evidently  de  trop,  but  is,  nevertheless,  en- 
titled  through  courtesy  to  a  patient  hearing. 
Meantime  Douglas,  at  the  bead  of  the  table, 
tlid  the  honors,  devoting  himself  more  es- 
l)eeially  to  Mademoisello  Stewart,  with  au 
ease  and  grace  which  astonished  Eric,  wlien- 
e>^rho  chanced  to  glance  that  way.  His 
<dd  abraptuess  of  manner  seemed  to  have 
left  him,  as  if  the  new  position  and  title  had 
worked  like  a  eliarm.  Mademoiselle  Stew- 
art did  not,  apparently,  share  her  brother's 
l)rejudice  against  the  strangers.  She  con- 
sidered Eric  very  handsome,  and  was  much 
])leased  with  her  new  cousin,  who  treated 
her  80  kindly  and  talked  so  nicely  to  her. 

The  elder  Stewart,  ris-d-ris  Avith  the  cur6 
at  madame's  left  hand,  was  throwing  his 
wary  and  critical  glances  around  the  table, 
while  discussing  the  religious  and  political 
<lue8tious  of  the  day  with  bis  hostess  and 
the  priest.  A  union  between  his  son  and 
H61eno  biul  long  been  a  favorite  scheme  of 
his.    The  return  of  the  heir,  to  whom  of 


lND  mair. 

aid  to  it,  but  now, 
ised." 

e,  to  Mademoisello 
their  conversation, 
•t  iu  tho  ligbt  of  a 
discourse  whero  lio 
is,  uovcrtlioless,  en- 
j  a  patient  licaring. 
o  liead  of  tho  table, 
5  liimself  nioro  es- 

0  Stewart,  with  an 
onishedEriOjWlieii- 
100  that  way.  His 
or  seemed  to  have 
•sition  and  title  had 
Mademoiselle  Stew- 
share  her  brother's 
rangers.  She  con- 
umo,  and  was  much 
cousin,  who  treated 

1  so  nicely  to  her. 
-h-via  with  tho  curd 
,  was  throwing  his 
)S  around  tho  table, 
igious  and  political 
ith  his  hostess  and 
itweeu  Ilia  son  and 

favorite  scheme  of 
3  heir,  to  whom  of 


8E\t:n  years  and  mair. 


105 


course  would  fall  tho  lion's  share  of  the  es- 
tate, had  thrown  a  damper  on  his  enthnsi- 
asiu  for  the  match,  but  now  a  new  one  loom- 
ed up  beloro  his  mind's  eye.  In  tho  dim 
distance  ho  hoard  wedding-bells,  and  saw 
his  little  Agneso  tho  happy  bride  of  the 
young  Viscount  Douglas.  In  imagination 
he  saw  the  estate  divided  between  his  chil- 
dren, and  ho  exulted.  Yet  his  calm  face 
gave  no  signs  of  what  was  passing  in  his 
mind,  nor  did  ho  ouce  lose  the  thread  of  the 
discourse. 

Tho  cur6,  a  silver-haired  man,  with  a 
gonial,  kindly  face,  gave  his  opinions  with 
groat  moderation,  never  iiermittiug  himself 
to  grow  warm  iu  dispute,  interspersing  his 
conversation  with  pleasant  littlo  anecdotes 
picked  up  in  his  long  ministry,  which  had 
not  been  always  exercised  in  country  vil- 
lages. Ho  was  a  ripe  scholar  and  a  cult- 
ured man  of  letters;  well  versed,  too,  in  the 
art  of  entertaining  his  listeners,  wlio  never 
failed  to  profit  by  his  remarks.  Near  him 
sat  M.  Maurin,  who  divided  his  tinio  be- 
tween old  -  ■-ashioued  gallantry  toward  the 
Demoiselle  Stewart,  who  was  on  one  side  of 
him,  and  discussions  with  tho  cur*?,  who  was 
on  the  other.  At  Viscount  Douglas's  loft 
hard  sat  an  old  and  decrepit  specimeu  of 


.m^mmm 


mmm 


I 


106 


8EVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


humanity,  who,  in  virfno  of  a  fourth  or  fifth 
couainship  with  tho  family,  had  contrived 
to  bo  invited.  She  absorbed  some  ahure,  at 
least,  of  tho  yoini<^  man's  attention,  and  at 
stich  intervals  Mudcmoisello  Stewart  was 
left  to  M.  Manrin. 

So  tho  dinner  passed  off,  and  tho  evening 
came.  A  grand  entertainment  was  then 
given.  The  grounds  were  ilhuninated  ;  pa- 
vilions were  erected,  well-heated  and  com- 
fortable, where  refreshments  of  various  kinds 
were  served.  Tho  old  ballroom  was  thrown 
open.  Thither  came  tho  nobility  for  miles 
around  ;  thither,  too,  came  tho  tenantry  and 
retainers  of  tho  house,  to  pay  their  respects 
to  tho  now  lonl. 

Tho  young  viscount  stood  with  his  sister 
and  Madame  do  Montfuucou  at  the  head  of 
the  room,  to  receive  the  compliments  and 
congratulations  of  tho  guests.  One  by  one 
the  villagers  entered  and  withdrew.  Then 
the  room  was  left  entirely  to  tho  people  of 
rank  and  station.  Tho  ffite  was  most  brill- 
iant. Tho  young  seigneur  was  courted  by 
the  mammas,  whereas  Eric  was  the  object 
of  universal  attention  from  tho  daughters. 
Viscount  Stewart  lounged  around  tho  room, 
dropping  a  little  sneer  here,  or  a  malicious 
iuuueudo  there,  directed  against  tho  two 


AND  MAin. 

0  of  a  fourth  or  fifth 
iiiily,  had  contrived 
irbo(i  Bomo  sliiiro,  at 
i'h  attention,  and  at 
isello   Stewart  was 

off,  and  tho  evening 
tainnient  was  then 
?re  illuminated ;  pa- 
Bll-h(sated  and  coni- 
onts  of  various  kinds 
allrooni  was  thrown 
10  nobility  for  miles 
lie  tho  tenantry  and 
o  pay  their  respects 

^tood  with  his  sister 
neon  at  tho  head  of 
10  coniplinionts  and 
quests.  Ono  by  one 
id  withdrew.  Then 
ely  to  tho  people  of 
ffite  was  most  brill- 
enr  was  courted  by 
Eric  was  tho  object 
from  tho  danghters. 
ed  around  tho  room, 
here,  or  a  malicious 
sd  against  the  two 


8EVEK  YEAnS  AND  MAIR. 


107 


friends,  for  ho  was  equally  jealous  of  liis  now 
relative's  good -fortune  and  of  Erie's  good 
looks.  However,  the  dowagers  continued 
to  lay  snares  for  Douglas,  and  tho  daughters 
to  admire  Eric.  Plain  littlo  Agu&so  Stewart 
was  in  ecstasy  because  she  was  so  well  treat- 
ed by  tho  lions  of  tho  evening.  As  for  them, 
they  rather  pitied  her,  and  Douglas  felt  a 
sort  of  interest  in  his  amiable  nonentity  of  a 
cousin.  Tho  elder  Stewart  was  oppressive- 
ly civil  to  Douglas,  and  gracious,  but  more 
circumspect  toward  Eric. 

When  the  evening  was  over,  and  tho 
guests  had  ono  by  ono  departed,  Douglas 
drew  his  sister  away  into  tho  conservatory 
for  a  talk,  asking  her  recollections  of  tlseir 
parents,  and  of  her  youth  among  tho  dear 
ones  ho  had  never  knowu.  Meanwhile  Eric 
remained  in  the  drawing-room  with  madame. 
It  had  becu  arranged  that  Eric  was  to  re- 
main at  tho  chdtcau  during  his  stay  in  Ton- 
raine,  an  arrangement  which  was  pleasing 
to  all  parties. 

When  Eyvind  and  his  sister  returned  to 
the  drawing-room,  they  remained  some  timo 
conversing  with  the  others,  and  Eric  ob- 
served, wliat  had  not  escaped  him  during 
the  evening,  that  his  friend  was  rather  de- 
pressed, and  indulged  in  fits  of  abstraction. 


108 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


ITo  slirowdly  Ruspectcd,  what  was  indeed 
tlio  caHO,  that  Doiijj;la8,  to  whom  wealth  and 
honor  had  so  nbnndantly  been  f^i  ven,  ns  well 
as  tho  society  of  congenial  fiiendN,  was  ea- 
gerly defiiring  something  more.  Ho  was  iu 
love;  of  that  Eric  was  convinced,  lint  readi- 
ly argued  to  himself  that  wealth  and  station 
would  certainly  bring  in  their  train  tho  love 
ho  desired.  Hut  Douglas  feared  tho  worst, 
and  indulged  in  no  such  comforting  reflec- 
tions. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"Where  sombre  fir-trees,  blnck  nml  tnll, 
Knstle  111  winds  thiit  sweep  tlie  i-liore ; 
And  with  tlint  leafy  miinmir  Kcomeil 
A  sonnd  of  lioUow  liiu^htei'  blent. 
With  the  shrickinf;  wind's  nppnllins  cries. 
While  the  ronr  of  waves  is  heard  between, 
And  through  its  tnninlt,  low  and  chill, 
That  hollow  Inngh  Is  ringing  still. 
Ah,  see  1  a  sudden  flash  !    Ah,  gaze  t 
What  hideous  sights  its  gleam  hcMays '." 

German  lialladn. 

Not  long  after  tho  festivities  at  tho  cas- 
tle, Douglas  wont  out  ono  evening  alone,  and 
wended  his  way  toward  tho  inn.  It  was  a 
beautiful,  clear  uight;  tho  yellow  moon  was 


IND  MAIR. 

wliat  wn8  indeed 
J  ■whom  wi-altli  iiiid 
•  been  Kivc!i,ns  well 
ial  fiieiuls,  wns  ea- 
;  more.  IIo  wns  in 
:)nvincod,l>nt  rcadi- 
I;  wenltli  and  station 
tlieir  train  the  lovo 
IS  feared  tho  worst, 
1  comforting  refloo- 


viir. 

I)lnck  niul  tnll, 
eep  the  slioie ; 
imir  peemetl 
ilui'  bloiit. 
i's  nppalliiipr  cries, 
is  heiird  bi-tweeu, 
low  niirt  chill, 
igllnj;  still. 
!    All,  piize  1 
gleam  bet  rays'." 

German  Uallad». 

stivities  nt  tbo  cas- 

3  evening  alone,  and 

tlio  inn.     It  was  a 

lie  yellow  niooa  was 


i 


[ 


SEVEN  YEAUS  AND  MAlll. 


100 


sliimmerinj;  on  tho  frosted  trees  and  tho 
snow -covered  landscape.  Orion  and  tlio 
Twins,  paled  by  tbo  glow  and  glory  of  tbo 
moon,  were  keeping  their  solenni  conrso  on 
tbrongU  tbo  silent  heavens.  The  throned 
Cassiopeia  reigned  her  transient  reign  over 
the  night,  and  palo  but  lnuiinons,in  tbo  fur 
north,  the  white  radiancu  of  tbo  aurora  bo- 
realis  jiarted  tbo  darkness  of  the  clouds  into 
a  seeming  dawn  of  wonderful  beauty. 

When  Dougla.s  reached  tho  inn  ho  found 
Nanette  atone.  "  Como  out  into  tbo  nioon- 
ligbt !"  bo  said,  somewhat  abruptly ;  "  I  bavo 
Sdinotbing  to  say  to  you." 

She  took  down  a  shawl  from  a  peg  and 
wrapped  herself  in  it.  Tho  shawl  was  red, 
and  wns  becoming,  because  it  gave  color  to 
tbo  girl's  still,  colorless  face. 

"Yon  wish  to  speak  to  me,  monsionr?" 
sbo  said,  quietly.  "I  cannot  stay  hero 
long." 

"I  shall  not  detain  yon," said  Douglas, in 
a  sort  of  suppressed  voice.  "  What  I  have 
to  say  can  quickly  be  said.  It  is  only  this 
— that  I  love  you !" 

"  Lovo  me,  my  lord !  You  do  mo  too  mnch 
honor,"  she  answered,  trembling  n  little,  and 
her  lip  quivering. 

"Do  not  speak  of  honor  in  tho  innttor," 


"mm 


110 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


sniil  Doiiglns,  impctuonsly;  "only  tell  me, 
doiiH  it  please  yoiif" 

'*!  do  not  know,"  slio  snid,  in  n  troubled 
voice;  "but  it  i8  not  right.  You  should 
lovo  a  lady  of  your  owu  rank,  and  not  a 
poor  girl  Hko  nie.'' 

"  But  what  does  it  matter  f  I  am  free  to 
wed  whom  I  pleoao.  Only  give  mo  nu  an- 
swer. Will  you  accept  my  lovet  Will  you 
bo  my  wifo?" 

"Your  wifo!"  said  Nanette,  slowly,  as  if 
she  saw  visions  of . jewels,  and  coronets,  and 
gay  dresses.  After  a  moment's  thought,  she 
said, "  I  cannot  answer  you  uow,  my  lord ;  I 
must  consider." 

"  Unt  why  can  yon  not  answer  mo  T  What 
is  to  prevent  yon  V  ho  asked,  impatiently. 

"Simply  that  I  do  not  know  myself,"  sho 
said,  hastily.  "And  now  I  must  go;  it  is 
late.     Good-night,  my  lord." 

Sho  disappeared  into  the  house  before  ho 
could  say  another  word.  Ho  walked  homo 
discontentedly.  Ho  could  not  come  to  any 
conclusion  about  her.  Then  ho  felt  he  was 
at  such  a  disadvantage  in  speaking  Frencii ; 
ho  know  it  so  imperfectly  as  yet.  And  mus- 
ing thus,  bo  reached  the  chateau.  He  in- 
quired for  madamo  and  the  young  people. 
The  butler  told  him  they  were  iu  the  tower. 


'■J 


KSD  HAIR. 

Bly;  "ouly  tell  mo, 

1  snid,  in  ft  troubled 
right.  You  bIiouIiI 
m  rank,  and  uot  a 

liter  f  I  am  free  to 
'Illy  give  mo  an  an- 
riiy  love  T    Will  you 

iinette,  slowly,  as  if 
Is,  and  coronetB,  and 

)ni(!llt'8  tilouglitiBho 

you  now,  my  lord ;  I 

t  answer  mo  T   What 
:sked,  impatiently. 
it  know  myself,"  sho 
)w  I  must  go;  it  is 
:)rd." 

the  lioHso  before  ho 
I.  Ho  walked  luinio 
nld  not  come  to  any 
Then  ho  felt  he  was 
in  speaking  Froncti ; 
ly  as  yet.  And  nins- 
lie  chiltcnn.  He  in- 
d  the  young  people, 
sy  were  iu  the  tower. 


SKVEN  YEAU8  AND  MAIH. 


Ill 


lie  osked  the  servont  to  direct  him  thither. 
When  they  reaehed  the  farthest  end  of  tho 
long  corridor,  stretching  tlio  whole  breadth 
of  tho  building,  tho  lackey  opened  a  door. 
They  passed  up  ii  narrow  w  inding  staircase. 
At  the  top  was  an  iron  door,  fastening  with 
a  spring.  This  led  them  to  a  sort  of  little 
passage,  widening  out  into  a  largo  square 
room.  There  ho  fonml  his  friends,  sitting 
in  tho  moonlight.  Tho  apartment  was  -well 
heated,  furnished  iu  a  very  antique  stylo, 
but  with  all  due  regard  to  comfort.  Doug- 
las was  greeted  with  a  volley  of  laughing 
questions.  Ho  seated  himself,  parrying  their 
attacks  with  what  success  he  could. 

"Mademoiselle  was  about  telling  us  a 
ghost-story  when  you  camo  in,"  said  Eric ; 
"  wo  woro  just  settling  ourselves  to  listen." 

"Well,  consider  me  as  onother  listener, 
and  proceed,  fair  sister,"  said  Douglas. 

"Could  you  understand  if  I  told  it  in 
French  ?"  asked  Hdlhne. 

"Oh  yes,  I  can  understand  it  perfectly," 
said  Douglas;  "so  begin." 

"A  very  long  time  ago,"  began  Hdlisne, 
"  one  of  the  lirst  of  our  ancestors  who  landed 
on  French  soil  was  then  in  possession  of  tho 
chAteau.  Ho  was  a  dark,  swarthy  man,  and 
said  by  the  country-people  to  be  cruel  uud 


mimmi' 


119 


BKVRN  YKAR8  AND  MAIIt. 


wiokod.  Strnngo  Htorios  wero  toltl  of  him. 
It  wns  wlimpcrod  tliiit  on  (link  iiif^hts  red 
niid  bliio  uiid  yellow  liglitH  wero  hcuu  from 
wiiidowH  of  tliu  enstic,  and  thnt  lio  tlioro 
liold  inectiiiKH  with  an  infernal  crew,  whoso 
hulliitli  ritcH,  wliieh  iisnally  took  iiliico  dur- 
ing Btornis,  conld  bo  heard  at  a  long  ditt- 
tiince.  Ho  wan  Hcarcely  over  seen  abroad, 
but  tho  talo  went  thnt  soinctinie.s  on  wild 
iiightH  hJM  deuionincal  laughter  waH  heard  in 
tho  village.  This  very  tower  was  liiit  favor- 
ito  spot,  and  hero  he  often  remained  from 
HUUBot  to  HunrlHO,  pacing  up  and  <lown,nint- 
tcriug  to  hiuiHolf,  or  buuied  with  dark  rites, 
wherein  deniona  asHintcd  him.  However,  n 
■war  broke  out,  and  tho  BununoiiH  eamo  from 
the  king  for  him  to  appear  at  court.  So  tho 
cIiAteau  was  closed,  and  tho  lor<l  went  awny. 
Years  passed  on,  and  tho  trees  grow  taller 
and  diirker  aronnd  tho  house,  and  tho  chA- 
tean  itself  began  in  sonu)  places  to  crumble 
into  decay,  and  tho  ivy  grew  thicker  and 
thicker,  till  it  nearly  covered  the  walls. 
Flowers,  and  weeds,  and  grasses  ran  wild, 
choking  up  tho  court-yurd,  overrunning  tho 
fonntaiua  and  tho  vases.  Tho  orchanl  be- 
came a  gloomy  forest,  tho  trees  weighed 
down  with  purple  and  golden  fruits,  which 
no  cue  darod  to  pluck;  the  park  a  wilder- 


, 


1 


IND  MAin. 

s  wero  tolil  of  him. 
1)11  (link  iii){lit8  red 
li(n  won)  Hfoii  from 
iiiiil  that  liu  tlicro 
if«riial  crew,  wlioso 
Ily  took  iilitcn  diir- 
luid  lit.  !v  long  dis- 
'  cvtu'  Hci'ii  abroad, 
soinctimcH  on  wild 
lighter  was  heard  in 
i)wer  wan  his  i'avor- 
"toii  remained  from 
up  and  <liiwn,iniit- 
ied  with  (hirk  rites, 
I  him.  However,  iv 
umnioDH  camo  from 
ar  at  court.  So  tho 
tho  lord  wont  away. 
0  trees  grew  taller 
liouse,  and  tho  chA- 

0  places  to  crnndtio 
grew  tliickor  aud 

covered    tho  walls. 

1  gra8.sc8  ran  wild, 
rd,  overrunning  tho 
1.  Tho  orchartl  bc- 
tlio  trees  weighed 
'ohlon  fruits,  wliich 

the  puik  a  wilder- 


, 


BKVKN  YKAIU  AND  HAIR. 


113 


L 


ncss ;  and  tlio  wlioln  place  a  region  of  awe, 
and  dread,  and  mystery.  Still,  on  stormy 
nights,  the  peasants  said,  the  castlu  was  il- 
luminated ;  still  Ihu  lord's  demoniacal  laugh 
rang  in  the  peasants'  ears.  At  length  a  man 
came  into  the  country  who  oH'ered  to  spend 
a  night  in  tlio  ch&tcuu  for  a  large  sum  of 
money.  It  was  agreed  upon,  and  one  dark 
night  ho  came  thither,  IIo  ensconced  bim- 
self  in  tho  tower;  a  tiro  was  lit  for  him,  tho 
iron  door  securely  fastened.  Ho  was  well 
armed,  for  he  suspected  that  tho  noises  might 
have  a  hunuiu  origin,  and  had  little  faith  in 
tho  supernatural.  He  had  provided  himself 
with  a  flue  supper,  and  when  ho  had  par- 
taken of  it  ho  fell  asleep.  It  must  have 
been  lato  in  the  night  when  ho  awoke.  Tho 
lire  was  nearly  out,  and  ho  felt  chilled  ;  tho 
wind  was  high,  and  howled  and  raved  around 
the  tower  as  if  it  would  tear  it  to  pieces. 
The  candle,  too,  was  extinguished,  and  tho 
room  quit«  dark.  As  he  arose  to  strike  n 
light,  bo  heard  a  sound  of  steps  on  the  stairs, 
and  as  if  of  voices  disputing.  He  stopped 
transfixed,  and  as  he  did  so  a  man  appeared 
inside  the  iron  door.  Ho  had  not  opened  it — 
it  bad  not  moved — yet  he  was  there.  The 
watcher  never  knew  why  it  was  that  he 
saw  the  stranger  distiuutly,  though  there 
8 


^itebauiimii«k«ikih 


114 


flEVKN  YKAIIS  AND  MAIB. 


w.',  I  .  i<  llfjlit.  Tho  opparltion  Henmcd  to 
trriiiRtix  liiiii,  Win  blooil  (Mtii^foitlod,  uiHl,<lis- 
tiiiclly  (III  tlio  chilly  nir,  In*  IkmimI  a  mocking, 
Hcornfiil  Ittiifjli,  Ihuiigh  tim  lut'o  of  tlii>  vi- 
HJiiM  roiimiiKid  iiiiiiiovi'il.  Tho  poor  man  wiih 
hoiTor-Htric.ki'ii,  iiiul  itt  tho  nioiiiuiit  tho  tloor 
opciicil,  ami  bulow  him,  in  whiit  Hoenioil  to 
lio  a  (loop  oiivoni,  woro  moii  in  HtriitiKo,  wilil 
ooHtnnioH,  oi'oiichiiiK  "V'T  .i  llro  that  liurnotl 
with  It  (loop-red  thiiiio.  Tlioy  convcrsod  in 
H  Jurf';on  whioh  tho  wiitclior  could  not  nn- 
(lorMtiiiid.  llo  (H>nld  hour  tho  clank  of  toolc, 
niid,  iiH  it  Roomod,  tho  working;  of  mctuU  and 
tho  cliudiiiij;  of  armH.  IIo  miw  tho  Rtranj^o 
nnd  Holonin  fuoes  of  tho  workors.  Then  tho 
viHion  faded,  and  only  tho  man  in  onnor  re- 
mainud,  ntill  standing  Junt  within  tho  iroa 
door.  llo  Hooniod  now  to  wear  a  sad,  re« 
]irouchfiil  look,  yot,  n»  ho  vaniuhod.rnng  oat 
upon  tho  air  a  wild,de8pairin);  langli. 

"  How  ho  llnitthod  that  night  of  horror,  the 
watclior  ncvor  know ;  but  at  dawn  ho  stag- 
gorod  into  tho  villago,  related  tho  awful  tale, 
and  wuH  Hcizcd  with  a  tit  of  illno8H,  from 
which  ho  nov(>r  perfectly  r<?covor«Ml ;  and 
for  many  a  day  thJH  wuh  called  tho'}Iannt- 
od  Tower,'  or  tho  'Tower  of  tho  Demon 
Workmen,' 

"  Yoara  after,  tho  wicked  lord  returned,  an 


I 


18  AND  MAIR. 

apparition  Monird  to 
loil  ('oii){(>ii!('(l,uii<l,(IU- 
r,  litt  lii'itrd  u  iiiDckiiiK, 
;li  tho  fuco  of  tlio  vi- 
•<1.    Tho  jioor  iimii  wiih 

t  tllll  IlKIIIUMlt  tho  ll<N)r 

III,  111  ^vhHt  Houiiiuil  to 

0  iiinii  ill  ittraiiKo,  wilil 
ivor  ;i  Oi'o  that  luiriioil 
9.  Tlioy  coiivorsoil  in 
viitchor  conhl  iint  iiii- 
it'iir  tho  clunk  of  toolc, 
\v(irkiii)r  of  mntulHaiKl 

llo  Huw  tho  (itraniio 
10  woi'korH.  TiKiii  tho 
'  tho  man  in  nrnior  re- 
;  JiiHt  within  tliu  iron 
ivf  to  wpnr  n  sml,  re- 

1  ho  vaniuliod,  ruii;;  oat 
pHpnirin;;  Imigh. 

Iiiit  night  of  horror,  the 
but  nt  <ln\vn  ho  stag- 
reliitod  I  ho  awful  tale, 
a  fit  of  illiicsH,  from 
fi'otly  rocovorcd ;  uihI 
viiM  called  tho'Hnnnt- 
I'ower   of  tho  Demon 

ickcd  lord  returned,  an 


«EVEN   YKAim  AM>  MAin. 


115 


L 


olil  and  brokoii  down  mail,  and  tlmn  it  was 
diMcovorcd  that  a  hand  of  coliiom  had  made 
their  don  in  the  howeU  of  the  earth  boncatli 
tho  tower,  and  tliero  piirmiod  their  unholy 
ealliiix,  eMpccially  when  thostoiin  wim  liiKli- 
t'Nt  and  tho  wiiul.i  roaitd  loudest.  Tlie  mys- 
tery ofhlin  who  appeared  through  tho  iron 
door  was  never  fully  cxidaiiied.exeopt  that 
tlio  coinern,  aiixioiiH  to  miiro  away  all  iii<inir- 
cr»,  had  droHsed  up  ono  of  their  nutnbur  in 
armor ;  it  was  aluo  mippoHod  thoy  bad  drawn 
away  tho  Bliillnn  lh)or  of  tho  tower,  dimhm- 
iiig  theiiiHelveH  to  view.  Yet  neneratioiiH 
hull  puNHt^d  before  one  of  tlio  l)ou>,'laH  namo 
or  any  of  the  neighboring  ]»eoplo  would  vciit- 
iiro  after  iiiRbtfall  into  tliifi  haunted  tower, 
fearing  loHt  tho  tloor  should  jiart  and  din- 
clone  the  eoinoiH,  turned  into  demouH,  puiKU- 
liig  their  work  iu  tho  tiro  of  hell.  Ho  runs 
the  legend." 

Ah  lIi5li~>iio  flnishcd,  involuntarily  hIio  Shud- 
dered, and  caHt  a  furtive  glaiico  around.  Ev- 
ery oiio  was  Bilent,  and  at  the  same  moment 
a  stop  was  heard  on  tho  stairs  without,  as  if 
a)>pi'oacliing  tho  iron  door,  lldlhno  scream- 
ed, and,  trembling,  drew  close  to  her  brother. 
As  she  did  so,  some  ono,  indeed,  approach- 
ed tho  iron  door.  It  opened,  and  the  sub- 
atuutiul  form  of  the  major-domo  upiiottred, 


116 


BEVKN  VEAI18  AJfD  HAIR. 


i    \ 


with  a  tray  of  refresbmeuts  ordered  by  ma- 
darac. 

One  ghost-story  led  to  another ;  the  little 
circle  drew  closer  round  tlio  fire,  and,  par- 
taking of  the  good  cheer  before  them,  kept 
their  vigil  till  long  past  midnight.  On  their 
way  down-stairs,  H61fene  clnnj,'  close  to  her 
brother's  side  till  they  had  got  safely  out  of 
the  hn-inted  tower.  She  drew  a  sigh  of  re- 
lief when  they  were  once  more  iti  the  famil- 
iar region  of  the  corridor. 

"  Sometime  I  must  show  yon  all  the  secret 
doors  and  passages  around  tlie  chateau," 
said  she  to  Eric,  "especially  those  in  the 
tower ;  and,  by-the-way,  that  tower  has  the 
greatest  possible  number  of  legends  con- 
nected with  it.  It  is  said  that  a  yonng 
demoiselle  of  the  house  once  saved  herself 
in  time  of  war  by  hastening  thither  and 
fastening  the  iron  door.  Tlie  besiegers 
rushed  liercely  against  it,  and  Lady  Agnes, 
in  despair,  leaped  from  the  window  to  the 
ground ;  for  the  outer  stairs  were  not  then 
ottacJied  to  the  tower.  She  was  not  hurt, 
but,  rising,  hnrried  away  into  the  country, 
and,  concealed  by  the  faithful  peasants,  ulti- 
mately reached  a  place  of  safety.  Wiu*  she 
not  brave.  Monsieur  Eric  T" 

"  Brave   indeed,  mademoiselle,"  he   said, 


•k-wweswffigp^MB-- -: 


AND  MAIR. 


SBVEX  YEARH  AMD  HAIIt. 


117 


leuts  ordered  by  ma- 
te another ;  the  little 
nd  the  fire,  and,  par- 
ler  before  them,  kept 
t  midnight.  On  their 
lie  chinj,'  close  to  her 
had  got  safely  out  of 
he  drew  a  sigh  of  re- 
ice  more  ia  the  fumil- 
or. 

iiow  you  all  the  secret 
ronnd  the  cliftteau," 
[)ccinlly  tliose  iu  the 
,y,  that  tower  has  the 
ibcr  of  legends  con- 
9  said  that  a  young 
se  oiico  suved  herself 
asteuing  thither  and 
loor.  Tlie  besiegers 
t  it,  and  Lndy  Agnen, 
ni  the  window  to  the 
stairs  were  not  then 
r.  Slie  was  not  hurt, 
vayinto  the  country, 
faithful  peasants,  ulti- 
le  of  safety.  Was  she 
ricT" 
ulemoiselle,"  he  said, 


laughing;  "hut  I  fear  her  desceudants  do 
not  all  slmre  her  courage." 

"But  I  might,  if  it  was  in  time  of  war," 
said  Hdlfenc,  gravely.  "  That  makes  a  great 
diilvrence  in  one's  courage." 

"  Wo  have  kept  our  ghost-stories  np  to  an 
unconscionable  hoar,"  said  madamc,  looking 
at  her  watch.  "Mea  chert,  messieurs,  it  is  af- 
ter one !" 

"After  one!"  said  Eric.  "There  is  a 
witchery  about  that  tower.  I  begin  to  be- 
lieve it  is  haunted  by  gentle  sprites,  who  so 
beguile  us  that  the  hours  fly." 

"  It  is  hauut«<l,  at  least,  by  memories," 
said  H<51fene,  softly ;  "  and  some  are  beautiful, 
hut  many  are  full  of  horror.  To-night  it 
was  moonlight,  and  all  was  beauty." 

"And  poetry  and  romance,"  said  Eric. 
"The  hours  flew  by  iu  a  spot  'whose  every 
stone  a  tale  could  boast.' " 

Tliey  were  all  standing  at  the  foot  of  the 
broad  stairs.  Douglas  took  no  part  in  the 
con  veisatiun.  His  dark  face  looked  sad,  his 
manner  was  even  quieter  than  usual.  With 
a  cordial  good-night,  the  little  party  sepa- 
rated, and  tho  old  ch&teaa  was  left  to  the 
shadows  and  the  phantom  forms  that  mem- 
ory or  imagination  might  conjure  up  to  fill 
its  stately  halls  and  winding  corridors. 


118 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  SfAIB. 


I; 


L 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"Why  mnst  wo  love,  when  our  dreams  of  bJisg 
Fade  all  so  soon  nwny  f 
Why  mnet  we  love  in  a  realm  like  this, 

or  darkness  and  decay  f 
Why  was  the  beautiful  born  to  dwell 
Deep  in  onr  hearts  with  its  mystic  spell, 
Bidding  as  worship  them  all  too  well— 
The  idols  of  n  day  f" 

HiTOUOOOK. 

Early  tLe  next  afternoon  Nanotto  was 
Bitting  at  tlie  door,  busy  with  some  needle- 
uorlc.whou  sLe  saw  tbo  Donglas  carriage 
Avith  its  armorial  quarterings  coming  rapid- 
ly along  tlio  road,  tbe  sound  of  wboels  lost 
in  tbe  treacberous  softness  of  fbo  snow. 
Slio  looked  np  as  it  came  in  sigbt.  8bo 
made  a  pretty  picture  — lier  peasant  dress 
ftud  cap,  ber  colored  woollen  shawl,  bright- 
ened by  the  sunshine,  her  pretty  little  atti- 
tude, her  upraised  face.  Tbe  carriage  stop- 
ped, and  madame  said  a  few  words  to  tbo 
girl  in  her  most  gracious  an<l  affable  tones ; 
bat  Nanette  only  saw  that  Mam'selle  HtSleno 
was  on  the  seat  beside  her,  in  tbe  daintiest 


i 


AND  BIAIR. 


R  IX. 

n  oar  dreams  of  biiss 

ny? 

realm  like  this, 

:ayf 

Ijorii  to  dwell 

lU  mystic  spell, 

n  all  too  well— 

HlTOIlOOOK. 

Tnooii  Nanotto  was 
y  with  some  iieedlu- 
e  Douglas  carriage 
rings  coming  rapid- 
ound  of  wheels  lost 
tness  of  the  snow, 
mno  in  sight.  SIio 
-her  peasant  dress 
ullen  shawl,  bright- 
er pretty  little  atti- 
Tho  carriage  stop- 
i  few  words  to  the 
i  and  affable  tones ; 
at  Mam'selle  H<$|{>nu 
ler,  in  the  daintiest 


8KVKX  YEARS  AND  HAIR. 


119 


of  morning  costnmes,  smiling  and  fair  and 
sweet  as  a  seraph,  and  that  opposite  her 
was  Monsienr  Eric,  absorbed  in  tlie  words 
and  smile.  When  the  carriage  stopped,  ho 
turned  quickly,  and,  seeing  Nanette,  uncov- 
ered his  head  and  bowed  with  the  most  kind- 
ly courtesy.  Yet  when  they  had  passed  on, 
Nanette  thought  the  sunshine  had  grown 
dark,  and  the  air  chill  and  cheerless.  Ris- 
ing with  a  shiver,  she  went  into  the  house, 
and  stood  warming  herself  at  the  fire.  In 
her  mind  she  was  going  over  and  over  again 
the  glimpse  she  had  caught  of  lldlfeno's  beau- 
tiful, happy  face,  and  of  Eric,  handsome  and 
graceful  and  courteous  as  a  prince.  Madame 
was  entirely  left  out  of  the  picture,  thougli 
she  was  riclily  attired,  and  hod  smiled  and 
bowed  to  Nanette  with  the  perfectiou  of 
graceful  condescension. 

Making  pictures  was  not,  however,  all 
that  occupied  her  active  mind.  She  was 
reflecting  how  she  could  see  and  speak  to 
Eric  for  an  hour  or  so,  without  awalieuing 
her  father's  suspicious.  She  resolved  that, 
however  slie  might  accomplish  it,  she  muni 
see  him,  eveu  once.  Consequently,  at  dusk 
that  same  evening,  Erie,  standing  in  the 
morning  -  room  of  the  ch&tea\i,  looking 
thoughtfully  out  of  the  window,  was  star- 


180 


SEVEN  TEAR8  AND  MAIR. 


tied  by  a  servant,  who  banded  him  a  piece 
of  coarse  paper.    It  contained  the  words : 

"Nanette  is  in  great  trouble.  Have  pity 
on  her  grief,  and,  in  your  goodness,  come 
and  assist  her." 

He  read  it  with  his  back  turned  to  the 
lackey,  who  stood  waiting  for  tlie  answer. 
He  knit  his  brows,  he  bit  his  lip,  then,  turn- 
ing to  the  servant,  asked, 

"Who  brought  this  paper  t" 

"A  boy,  nionsienr,"  answered  the  ser- 
vant. 

"  A  boy  T  Very  good ;  there  is  no  answer : 
yon  may  go." 

The  man  left  the  room.  Then  Eric  began 
to  ponder  on  the  strange  message  he  bad 
received.  He  could  not  imagine  what  her 
grief  could  be ;  however,  he  resolved  to  go. 
It  was  not  in  his  nature  to  refuse  help  to 
any  woman  who  might  reqnire  it.  At  din- 
ner he  said  nothing  of  his  intention,  but 
when  it  was  over,  simply  stated  that  he  was 
going  down  to  tlie  village.  He  fancied  he 
saw  a  cloud  on  his  friend's  face,  and  being 
aware  of  his  secret,  feared  that  he  suspected. 
When  he  reached  the  inn,  Nanette  was  wait- 
ing for  him.  It  was  a  mild,  calm  night, 
tliougk  it  was  still  March.  Nanette  whis- 
pered to  him, 


AMD  MAIR. 

banded  him  a  piece 
itaiiiod  tlie  words : 
trouble.     Have  pity 
your  goodness,  come 

back  turned  to  the 
ting  for  the  answer, 
it  his  lip,  then,  turn- 

laper  t" 
answered   the  ser- 

;  there  is  no  answer : 

n.  Then  Erie  began 
age  message  he  hod 
t  imagine  what  her 
r,  he  resolved  to  go. 
re  to  refuse  help  to 
require  it.  At  din- 
f  his  intention,  buii 
y  stated  that  he  was 
tge.  He  fancied  he 
nd's  face,  and  being 
id  that  he  suspected. 
n,  Nanette  was  wait* 
%  mild,  calm  night, 
ch.    Nanette  whig- 


I 


SKVBN  TEARS  AND  MAIR. 


121 


"We  counot  go  in;  the  room  is  full.  I 
conld  not  speak  to  yon  there." 

"As  you  please,  Nanette,"  he  answered, 
briefly,  feeling  vaguely  uncomfortable  at 
this  arrangement;  "but  it  would  ho  better 
if  you  could  have  explained  uiattera  to  me 
iu-doors,  where  Dame  Lucille  is." 

"  She  must  not  know,"  she  replied,  hur- 
riedly ;  "  that  would  never  do." 

"Well,"  he  said,  kindly,  "tell  me  as  brief- 
ly as  possible,  my  good  Nanette,  what  trou- 
bles you  and  how  I  can  assist  you." 

"  How  can  I  make  you  understand,  mon- 
sieur t"  she  said,  with  downcast  eyes.  "It 
is  so  hard  to  begin." 

"Very  well,  then,"  ho  said,  smiling,  "I 
shall  begin.    Is  it  some  little  love-affair  t" 

"  Well,  monsieur,"  said  the  girl,liesitating- 
ly, "  Milord  Douglas  has — has  asked  me  to — " 

"Milord  Douglas,"  said  Eric,  becoming 
grave  at  once.  "Ahl  that  is  auother  mat- 
tor.  You  know,  of  course,  how  many  objec- 
tions there  are  to  such  a  union  f" 

"  I  know,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Being  but  lately  restored  to  his  proper 
rank,"  continued  Eric, "  it  is  the  more  expe- 
dient for  him  to  choose  a  wife  in  his  own 
station." 

"  Oh,  monsienr,  you  are  cruel !"  said  N»- 


i 


122 


SEVEN  YKAns  AND  MAIH. 


nette,  clasping  her  Lands ;  "  you  do  not  think 
of  me !" 

"I  do  think  of  yon,  my  poor  girl!"  said 
Eric,  wiirmly;  "and  I  tell  yon  you  would 
not  be  happy  in  such  an  alliance !" 

A  faint  gleam  of  hope  entered  her  heart. 
Why  should  ho  be  so  averse  to  the  match, 
unless  he  had  some  personal  motive  for 
opposing  itf  Qnito  unconscious  of  her 
thoughts,  Eric  went  on  : 

"Just  an  tho  relatives  and  friends  of  Mad- 
emoiselle Douglas  consider  it  best  for  her  to 
marry  Viscount  Stewart,  and  so  increase  tho 
wealth  and  power  of  two  ancient  houses. 
Take  my  advice,  then,  and  refuse  to  marry 
Viscount  Douglas,  if  yon  wish  to  bo  hap- 
py." 

"Nanette!  IVanotte!"  cried  a  hoarse  voico 
from  the  door,  "where  are  you  roaming  to 
at  this  time  oC  night  ?    Come  in,  I  tell  yon  !" 

"They  aro  calling  me,"  cried  Nanette, 
bursting  into  tears,  "  and  I  have  not  yet 
hoard  your  advice." 

"I  will  come  again,"  cried  Eric,  impul- 
sively, completely  subdued  by  her  tears. 
"Shall  I  say  to-morrow  morning?" 

"As  you  will,"  she  said,  hesitatingly. 

"  Well,  then,  to-morrow  before  noon,  if  the 
weather  bo  good ;  if  not,  ou  tho  following 


I  AND  HAIR. 

Is;  "you  do  not  think 

,  ray  poor  girlT'enid 
tell  you  you  woiihi 
n  alliance !" 
po  entered  lier  heart, 
averse  to  the  match, 
personal  motive  for 
unconscious   of  her 

8  and  friends  of  Mad- 
ider  it  best  for  her  to 
t,  and  so  increase  the 
two  ancient  houses, 
and  refuse  to  marry 
on  wish  to  bo  hap- 

cried  a  hoarse  voice 
are  you  roaming  to 
Come  in,  I  tell  yon!" 
mo,"  cried  Nanette, 
lud  I  faavo  not  yet 

"  cried  Eric,  impul- 
lued   by    her  tears, 
morning  ?" 
id,  hesitatingly. 
w  before  noon,  if  the 
>t,  ou  the  following 


SEVEN  I'EAltS  AND  MAIR. 


123 


morning.  Then  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  for 
you." 

"  You  are  an  angel,  monsieur !"  said  Na- 
nette, fervently. 

"Far  frouj  it,  petite,"  ho  said,  laughing; 
"  very  far  from  it." 

He  turned  away,  just  as  Dame  Lucille's 
unmusical  voice  called  Nanette  iigaiu  more 
lustily  than  before.  When  the  girl  wont  in, 
she  was  questioned  closely. 

"Who  wero  you  talking  to T"  cried  the 
dame,  sharply. 

At  tirst  Nanette  would  give  no  answer. 
But  it  was  wrung  from  her  that  Monsieur 
Eric  had  come  down  from  the  chillean  to 
see  her.  Tiio  gossips  present  shook  their 
heads.  Dame  Lucille  dismissed  her  \Yith  a, 
sharp  cull' on  the  ear,  and  Nanette  retired  to 
dream  blissful  dreams  of  the  morning  of  sun- 
shine that  was  to  bring  her  lover,  beautiful 
and  noble  as  the  heroes  of  the  fairy  tales. 

Next  nioruing,  when  Eric  arose  aiul  looked 
out,  it  was  raiuing  in  torrents,  pouring  in  a 
straight,  steady  stream,  that  gave  no  prom- 
ise of  speedy  cessation.  Ho  was  not  very 
sorrj'  that  his  second  interview  with  Na- 
nette was  thus  postponed. 

"What  dreadful  weather!"  said  mndame, 
as  bo  entered  the  breakfast-room ;  "  and  fau- 


f^ym--' 


124  8EVKN  YKAIW  AND  MAIR. 

oy,  tliis  hondstroiig  Robert  insists  on  ridinir 

over  to  tlio  Stewart  estate  1"  * 

"Yon  will  btive  rongh  weather,  Donclas  » 

To"  fSW""""""  ■"""""•' >-'i»» 

"  Such  advice  from  you,  Eric !"  said  Donir- 
las-  yon,onco  the  most  daring  ilsbor  oa 
the  coast !" 

"Hough  weather  never  troubled  us  in  the 
old  days  at  I-  oula  "  said  Eric,  turning  at  once 
to  Douglas,  readily  sympathizing  with  bis 
allusion  to  the  past. 

"I  should  think   not,"  replied   Douglas. 
But  as  to  my  visit,  I  must  really  go      I 

"iellT  "" '''"' """«"'  ■""'  ''^'y «'« 

r„"^?/?'""  ^l""'^'  Monsieur  Eric,"  said  H<J- 
ene,"the  oldest  tree  in  the  orchard  ^vas 
blown  down  la«t  night  f  It  has  made  me 
sa.1,  lor  I  remember,  when  I  was  a  very  little 
girl,  papa  used  to  take  me  there  and  toll  me 
how  old  it  was." 

"What  a  pity  it  should  be  destroyed'" 
said  Eric.  "I  am  sure  you  must  be  sorry. 
iJut  was  any  more  damage  done  1" 

"kT?I-v  *''"*.''''*  '"•"^^  of,"  said  Douglas; 

but  it  ,t    ontinues  to  blow  as  hard  as  this 
1  tear  there  will  bo  more." 

After  breakfast  ho  put  on  his  great-coat, 


I  AND  MAin. 

bert  insists  on  ridinir 
atol"  * 

til  weather,  Donglas," 
not  better  postpone 

on,  Eric !"  said  Dong- 
lost  daring  tisLer  on 

er  troubled  ns  in  the 
Eric,  turning  at  once 
mputLizing  with  hi» 

t,"  replied  Douglas. 

nnist  really  go.     I 

longb,  and  doty  the 

iiour  Eric,"  said  H6- 
in  tlio  orchard  was 
'  It  has  made  me 
'n  I  was  a  very  little 
ne  there  and  toll  me 

>uld  be  destroyed!" 
yon  must  be  sorry. 
go  done  f" 
of,"  said  Douglas ; 
low  OS  hard  as  this. 
." 

t  on  his  great-coat, 


BRVEN  TEARS  AND  MAIR. 


125 


and,  tnniing  up  the  collar,  wont  out  into  the 
storm.  After  he  had  driven  away,  the  ladies 
sat  down  to  their  embroidery.  H6i^ne  chat- 
ted away,  her  meiTy  laugh  ringing  through 
the  rooms,  her  chihlish  face  growing  bright 
and  animated  as  she  talked.  Tiirough  the 
latticed  windows  of  the  room  they  could  see 
the  court-yard,  with  the  perennial  plants,  and 
the  vases,  and  the  sundial.  The  trees  were 
fairly  dripping  with  ruin,  the  basins  of  the 
fountains  overflowing,  the  high  stone -wall 
drenched  to  a  dark,  gloomy  gray. 

After  a  while  the  conversation  turned  on 
Foula.  Eric  told  them  many  a  strange  tale 
of  the  island  itself,  and  those  inunodiately 
in  the  vicinity,  with  which  from  boyhood 
he  had  been  familiar.  He  described  the 
hut  where  Douglas  had  passed  his  cheerless 
youth,  with  no  other  companion  than  the 
crazy  woman.  He  spoke  of  his  own  happy 
fireside,  his  mother's  talcs,  which  hitd  whiled 
away  the  long,  dark  winter  nights  in  the  by' 
gone  years  at  Fonla.  The  legends  and  the 
ballads,  the  atmosphere  of  poetry  and  ro-^ 
mance,  in  which  he  had  been  brought  n]/*, 
were  not  forgotten,  and  his  listeners  vreice 
entranced.  He  told  them  of  the  home-liife 
on  the  island;  the  qnaint  customs  of  the 
simple  islanders ;  the  beauty  of  that  north- 


BBVKN  YEAIW  AND  MAIR. 

crn  region,  its  ^vcir.l  ligbu,  and  Kloams,  nn.l 
ifiory ;  tlio  Htrango  nicteow  timt  dnrtrd 
throiiK h  tho  8ky  at  night,  and,  as  the  i«lan.l. 
era  mi.d,  bon.  tlic  npirits  of  tl.o  vikings,  dead 
t  .oumuMls  of  y..nrH,ou  m.Hsions  of  war  and 
l.lnod  tlnoiigl,  tlio  gloom  of  midnight.  H« 
told  f  hem  mw  tho  ,„oon  looked  down  with 
tonlol.l  light  and  gi„,y  „„  t|,„  ^..^^  ,,,,     .^^ 

Thoro      '""*•" K^wn  rocks,  and  iho  pebbly 

"It  is  a  glorions  sight  when  a  storm 
sweeps  over  it,"  he  «aid,  "Htirring  it  to 
dciully  rage;  tho  waves,  rising  as  hicli  as 
moiiuUins,  lashing  tliomselvos  against  the 
cold  stiernness  of  the  rocks,  which  they  cov- 
cr  with  foaming  whiteness.  Tho  sky  and 
«ea  are  dull,  leaden-gray,  with  a  lino  of  h.rid 
light  hencath  the  horizon,  and  a  snspicion 
ot  dark,  dismal  wrecks,  far  out  where  tho 
storm  rages  in  unchecked  fury." 

blet    asked  Jldifene,  laying  down  her  work. 
s,fi|ce        '^'     "■  '"'el't, childish  eyes  upon  his 

*■  "  No,  inndemoisolle,"  said  Eric ;  "  there  are 
t  mos  w-hen  it  is  calm,  and  soft,  and  fair  as 
so  Jh  ^'  '  f^r""  n'«"riow.  The  waves  come 
8o»ftly  ,„  hke  waving  grass,  at  the  touch  of 
tae*  wmd;  the  sun  lights  with  its  gold  tho 


I 


AND  MAin. 

Iits,  and  jjlonms,  and 
eteors  that  darted 
t,  and,  as  tlio  itdaiul- 
of  tlio  vikiiijrs,,iead 
r..88ioii8  of  war  and 
n  of  niidiiight.  Ho 
I  lo(jk<!d  down  with 
an  tlio  vaNt  niKiuiefc 
JkH,  and  Ilio  pobbly 

flit  when  n  storm 
id,  "Htininjr  it  to 
,  rlHJnj;  iw  liigi,  fts 
i8«lv(<8  ajjairist  the 
i8,  wliich  tliuy  cov- 
B8H.  Tlio  8ky  and 
with  a  lino  of  Jnrid 
n,  and  a  Hnspicion 
far  ont  wliero  tho 
fnry." 

nl  wild,  and  terri- 
K  down  licr  work, 
dish  eyes  upon  h'm 

d  Eric ;  "  there  are 
id  soft,  and  fair  as 

Tho  waves  come 
is,  at  tlie  touch  of 

with  its  gold  the 


SEVKV  YBAKH  AXD  MAIU. 


197 


emerald-Kroen  cAves,  lying  cool,  and  fair,  and 
limpid  l»on(!Ulli  the  snrfaco,  and  biinj(M  np, 
as  it  were,  bright  rcUectionH  fnnu  tho  hid- 
den mines  of  sparkling  jewels  lying  in  its 
far  4leptlis." 

"  How  bcantiful  it  must  be!''  said  H61i>no. 
"And  think.  Monsieur  Erie,  1  have  miver 
seen  it!     Hut  tell  us  more  of  it." 

"At  evening,"  contiuncd  Eric,  "  it  is  like 
fairy-land,  reminding  one  of  tho'Arabiau 
Nights'  and  their  enchanted  realms.  There 
are  fields  of  molten  gold;  there  are  rivers 
of  ruby  and  carbuncle;  there  are  mines  of 
diamond,  emerald,  topaz, ami  sapphire;  there 
are  qinuries  of  gleaming  metals :  and  the 
sunset  skies  above  are  rich  antl  rare;  now 
dark  and  sombre,  now  clear  and  bright — 
Hecks  of  amber  on  a  gray  ground;  streaks 
of  pale  green  skirting  dark  purple  clouds. 
Once  I  remember  it  was  a  lovely  afternoon ; 
tho  water  was  bright  green,  but  when  tho 
sun  began  to  set  it  changed  to  steel-gray. 
The  sun  wont  down  in  a  dazzling  blazo  of 
gold,  but,  as  it  drew  near  its  watery  bed,  it 
turned  to  liery  crimson.  A  Jlusli  came  over 
one  portion  of  tho  sea,  till  it  gleamed  like 
the  red  heart  of  a  rnby ;  tho  other  half  of 
tho  water  lay  still  and  cold,  and  in  its  sol- 
emn grayuess  sailed  a  boat,  outlined  against 


' 


! 


BRVBN  YKAIU  AND  MAIR. 

the  «ky.  It  nailed  on  and  on  till  it  came 
within  tliu  red  rudittnuo  of  tlio  ({liiwiiig 
west,  and,  civtchiiiK  tliu  colors  of  tliut  uii- 
cbaiitud  reuliii,  |{l*i<>iued  n  fuiry  bark  of 
inotIior-of-|iuarl." 

"  How  tixqiiiiiitoly  you  dcHoribo  the  hcoiio  !" 
said  iiiodauio.  "  It  is  a  traut  to  bonr  you 
talk." 

And  she  was  riRht.  Ho  had  hold  thorn 
spellbound,  so  thoroughly  wiia  bo  imbued 
with  the  power  of  his  subject;  for  neither 
time,  nor  travel,  nor  oxperiuiico  could  over 
cradicute  the  vein  of  poetry  thot  liiy  so  deep 
in  Erie's  nature.  It  biul  come  down  to  him 
from  tlie  occupnuts  of  anccstriil  tombs;  it 
hod  been  inherited  from  his  motlior;  it  was 
inwoven  with  bis  very  nature.  Hence  his 
face  grow  grave  or  mirthful,  stern  or  soft,  as 
the  occasion  demanded,  bis  mobile  features 
expressing  every  emotion. 

iWlfeuo  was  happy  that  morning — hap- 
py in  a  vague,  unroasouiug  way  which  sbo 
could  not  understand.  It  was  pleasant  to 
sit  there,  secure  from  the  wind  and  rain,  lis- 
tening to  the  voice  she  had  learned  to  oou- 
slder  the  most  musical  on  earth,  watching 
the  features  of  a  face  dearer  and  handsomer 
to  her  than  any  face  she  had  over  seen.  Ut- 
terly unconscious  of  all  this,  £rio  felt  it  a 


MUM 


AND  MAIR. 

atul  on  till  it  came 
)C0  (>f  til"  Rluwiiig 
a  cdlui'H  of  tliut  eii- 
d  n  fuiry   bark   of 

I  (IcRoribo  tlie  Hcone !" 
a  trout  to  hoar  you 

Ho  had  liold  thorn 
:hly  WII8  ho  imbued 
Hid>i(!ct ;  for  noithcr 
iperiuiico  could  over 
etry  that  lay  so  d«ep 
aI  coiiiu  down  to  him 

nnccHtral  tombs;  it 

II  his  tnothnr;  it  was 
nature.     Ilunce  hUi 

:hfiil,  stern  or  soft,  ns 
,  his  luobilo  features 
[)n. 

that  morning — hap- 

uing  wuy  which  she 

It  wns  pleasant  to 

10  wind  and  rain,lis- 
Iiad  learned  to  cou- 

1  on  earth,  watching 
Barer  and  handsomer 
a  liad  over  seen.    Ut- 

11  this,  Erie  felt  it  a 


0RVKN  YEARS  AND  MAIR, 


159 


pleasant  task  to  entertain  as  best  ho  conlil 
his  kind  and  hotpitabiu  hostoHN,  and  tliii 
rliarniing  young  girl,  whoso  cliildisli  beauty 
and  naivete  be  ho  much  ndniirt:d.  Hut  sho 
was  never  further  from  bim  than  on  that 
morning  of  rain,  when  his  thoughts  were 
back  in  distant  Foula.  , 

Douglas  did  not  return  till  late  that  night, 
and  Erie  conseiiueutly  did  not  see  bim ;  but 
he  thought  be  heard  hiui  pacing  his  room, 
till  ho  fell  asleep  himself,  and  forgot  every- 
thing. Next  morning  was  such  a  one  as 
often  follows  ruin — u  nuirnlDg  of  fresh,  brac- 
ing air,  and  warm  suidight.  When  Erie 
came  down-stairs,  he  found  Douglas  stand- 
ing on  the  hcartii  with  bis  buck  to  the  fire. 
His  face  was  pule,  and  ho  bud  a  deep  wrinkle 
between  his  brows. 

"Good -morning,  Douglas,"  said  Eric,  en- 
tering. 

"Good-morning,"  answered  Douglas, with 
a  sort  of  constraint. 

"Are  you  not  wellt"  askod  Eric. 

"  Oh  yes,  well  enough,"  said  ho.  "  I  am  a 
little  out  of  sorts,  thut's  all." 

As  he  spoke  be  walked  over  to  the  table 

and  took  up  a  paper,  so  that  nothing  more 

passed  between  them.    Wheu  breakfast  was 

over,  Erie  went  out.    As  bo  passed  through 

» 


130 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


the  conrt-yard,  Douglas  called  to  liim  care- 
leesly, 

"  Off  to  the  village,  Eric  t" 

"  Yes,"  Eric  replied ;  "  I  am  going  down 
to  the  inn." 

"  To  the  inn  V  said  Donglas. 

"  Yes ;  I  want  to  see  Nanette." 

A  cloud  gathered  on  Douglas's  face,  but 
be  made  no  further  remark.  Eric  strolled 
along  the  wintry  roads,  enjoying  the  pleas- 
ant air,  and  when  he  reached  the  inn,  found 
Nanette  waiting  for  him  as  before. 

"  Let  us  walk  a  little  way,"  said  Nanette. 
"  They  are  watching  me,  I  think." 

"  Watching  you  V  said  Eric,  in  surprise. 
"Why!" 

"  Because  they  discovered  that  yon  were 
here  last  night." 

Eric  looked  annoyed.  However,  he  gave 
no  sign,  but  simply  said, 

"  Well,  let  us  lose  no  time.  Tell  me  what 
I  can  do  to  help  you." 

She  glanced  at  him.  He  was  looking 
straight  before  him,  his  handsome  face 
flushed  by  his  rapid  walk,  his  closely  cut 
hair  blowing  a  little  in  the  wind,  his  figure 
set  off  to  great  advantage  by  his  well-fitting 
morning  costume,  the  perfection  of  careless 
ease :  one  hand  was  in  the  pocket  of  his  coat, 


tl 
n 
u 
ui 
w 

a 

111 

P< 
sc 
ill 


hi 

m 
is 
ti 

fr 
ai 
in 


AND  MAIR. 

«  called  to  Lim  care- 

3riot" 

;  "I  am  going  down 

Douglas. 

Nanette." 

1  Douglas's  face,  but 

jmark.    Eric  strolled 

8,  enjoying  the  pleas- 

eacbed  tbo  iun,  found 

m  as  before. 

0  way,"  said  Nanette, 
le,  I  think." 

aid  Eric,  in  surprise. 

)vered  that  yon  lyere 
I.    However,  be  gave 

a, 

1  time.    Tell  me  what 

D.  He  was  looking 
bis  handsome  face 
(valk,  bis  closely  cut 
1  tlie  wind,  bis  figure 
ige  by  bis  well-fitting 
perfection  of  careless 
the  pocket  of  his  coat, 


SEVE.V  YEARS  AND  HAIR. 


131 


the  other  holding  his  cane.  Nanette  thought 
no  one  could  be  handsomer  in  face  and  fig- 
ure thau  be,  and  a  more  competent  judge  of 
manly  attractions  might  well  have  agreed 
Avith  her. 

She  glanced  at  hira,  hesitated,  and  said,  in 
a  low  voice, 

"  I  have  asked  monsieur's  advice.  What 
muot  I  say  to  Milord  Douglaa  i" 

"  Nanette,"  cried  Eric,  turning  to  her  im- 
petuously, "let  your  heart  prompt  yon.  I 
see  clearly  that  this  is  not  a  matter  for  my 
interference." 

To  his  astonishment,  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  What  does  this  mean  f "  asked  be. 

"Oh,  monsieur,  I  cannot,  I  do  not  love 
Lim !" 

"You  do  not!"  said  Eric;  "well,  that 
makes  the  matter  very  simple.  Your  course 
is  clear.  You  would  not  marry  for  ambi- 
tions motives  ?" 

"  No,  no !"  she  said. 

Eric  was  relieved.  Ko  would  fain  see  his 
friend  married  to  a  lady  of  his  own  rank. 

"  Tell  me,  Nanette,"  he  said,  "  do  you  love 
any  one  else  ?" 

She  did  not  answer,  but  continued  weep- 
ing. 

"What     of    that    handsome    peasant, 


I 


132 


SGVBX  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


Jacques,  whom  Dame  Lucille  used  to  say 
your  father  intended  for  you  f" 

"They  persecute  me!"  she  8aid,yritb  sud- 
den vehemence ;  "  they  are  cruel  to  me,  be- 
cause I  will  not  marry  bim ;  and  oli,  I  can- 
not do  it!" 

"Then  there  is  some  other  young  peasant 
who  has  your  heart,"  said  Eric.  "  Well,  take 
courage;  your  father  may  relent.  But  tell 
me  who  is  the  fortunate  youth  T" 

"I  cannot,"  said  Nanette;  "ho  is  more 
cruel  than  all  the  rest.  Ho  would  despise 
me  if  he  knew.  I  fear  he  loves  some  one 
else." 

He  looked  at  her  a  little  curiously:  her 
eyes  wore  flxed  upon  the  ground. 

"Why, poor  child!"  said  Eric, smiling  in- 
voluntarily," who  is  the  hard-hearted  swain  f ' 

"  He  is  a  great  lord,  and  lives  in  a  cha- 
teau," she  said,  in  a  very  low  voice. 

"  A  lord !"  said  Erie,  starting.  "  Then  you 
do  love  the  Douglas." 

"No,"  she  said,  "I  do  not  love  Milord 
Douglas." 

"Then  it  is  Stewart,"  cried  Eric.  "But 
yon  are  mad,  my  poor  Nanette ;  he  loves  an- 
other." 

"  It  is  not  him,"  she  said,  iu  a  hurried 
voice. 


S  AND  MAIR. 

I  Lncille  nsod  to  say 
"or  you  1" 

i !"  abe  said,  with  aod- 
y  are  cruel  to  me,  be- 
y  him ;  and  oh,  I  can- 

e  other  young  peasant 
aid  Eric.  "Well,  take 
may  relent.  But  tell 
to  youth  t" 

Iano(  te  ;  "  he  is  more 
it.  Ho  would  despise 
ar  he  loves  some  oue 

k  little  curiously:  her 

slio  ground. 

'  said  Eric,  smiling  in- 

e  hard-hearted  swain  f ' 

d,  and  lives  in  a  ch&- 

sry  low  voice. 

,  starting.    "  Then  yoa 

[  do  not  love  Milord 

rt,"  cried  Eric.  "  But 
Nanette ;  he  loves  an- 

he  said,  in  a  hurried 


SEVKX  YBARS  AND  MAIR. 


133 


"  Tiion  who — "  ho  began. 

Ho  looked  at  her,  and  did  not  finish.  Men- 
tally he  cursed  his  own  stupidity,  as  ho  read 
her  secret  in  her  deep  agitation. 

"  I  will  not  ask  who  it  is,"  he  said,  grave- 
ly.    "  Your  secret  is  safest  with  youraelf." 

"  But  it  is  no  longer  mine,"  she  said,  vehe- 
mently.    "  You  know  it,  and  despise  nie !" 

He  turned  away,  and  seemed  to  watch  the 
shadows  of  the  trees.  He  was  deeply  shock- 
ed and  pained.     He  said  at  last, 

"  You  are  excited,  Nanette,  and  do  not  stop 
to  consider.    Let  in  talk  of  something  else." 

"  You  despise  me  now !"  sho  burst  out 
again.  "  Oh,  how  mad,  how  foolish  1  have 
been,  and  how  nnmaidenly!" 

"  Stop,  Nanette,  I  implore  you,"  said  Eric ; 
"you  are  lowering  yourself.  The  knowl- 
edge I  havo  most  unwillingly  gained  will 
be  forgotten.  Yon  have  acted  childishly, 
but  henceforth  you  will  be  a  woman,  never 
forgetting  your  own  self-respect." 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  I  wish  you  had  spared  me  the  pain  of 
saying  such  words  to  yon,  Nanette,"  con- 
tinued Eric.  "  I  would  rather  have  cut  my 
right  hand  off." 

As  she  seemed  overcome,  he  thought  it 
better  to  go. 


^^^^^^» 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 

"You  will  doubtless  prefer  to  be  alone, 
Nanette,"  be  said ;  "  so  I  shall  bid  you  good- 
bye now.  You  must  never  think  with  any 
regret  or  pain  of  to-day,  and  I  shall  always 
be  your  devoted  friend." 

Erie  pursued  his  way  homeward,  leaving 
Nanette  to  indulge  in  a  burst  of  passionate 
grief.  The  fact  of  being  admired  by  the 
lord  of  the  castle  had  so  turned  her  sil- 
ly little  head  that  she  bad  fancied  all  men 
were  ready  to  throw  tlieinselves  at  her  feet. 
Hence  her  bitter  disappointment  and  morti- 
fication, and  hence  her  uuniaidenly  forward- 
ness, for  which  she  was  so  severely  punished. 

Eric  himself  was  full  of  perplexity  and 
of  vexation.  Ho  knew  the  busy  tongues  of 
the  village  gossips,  and  feared  the  matter 
might  get  atloat.  Moreover,  be  was  sorry 
for  Nanette ;  she  was  so  young,  so  unsophis- 
ticated, and  bad  been  so  carelessly  brought 
up. 

Meanwhile,  Hdl^ne  was  out  among  the  al- 
leys of  the  park,  from  which  the  snow  had 
been  nearly  all  washed  away  by  the  heavy 
rain  of  the  previous  day.  She  was  warm- 
ly wrapped  up,  and  enjoyed  to  the  full 
the  spring-like  brightness  of  the  weather. 
Hence,  as  soon  as  her  cousin  Henri  came  in 
sight,  she  cried  oat  to  biin,eDtbnsia8ticalIy, 


AND  MAIR. 

I  prefer  to  bo  alone, 
I  shall  bid  you  good- 
lever  think  with  any 

y,  and  I  shall  always 

» 

y  homeward,  leaving 
»  burst  of  passion  ate 
ing  admired  by  the 
1  80  turned  her  sil- 
had  fancied  all  men 
lemsclves  at  her  feet. 
)oiutinent  and  morti- 
unniaidcnly  forward- 
so  severely  punished, 
ill  of  perplexity  and 
'  the  busy  tongues  of 
d  feared  the  matter 
ireover,  he  was  sorry 

0  young,  so  unsophia- 
so  carelessly  brought 

as  out  among  the  al- 
which  the  snow  had 

1  away  by  the  heavy 
ay.  3he  was  warm- 
enjoyed  to  the  full 
;ues8  of  the  weatuor. 
sousin  Henri  came  in 
xim,  enthusiastically, 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  HAIR. 


135 


"Oh,  cousin,  cousin!  is  it  not  a  lovely 
day  1  Everything  is  so  bright,  and  fresh, 
and  sweet!" 

"Yes,  everything,  via  lelle,"  said  Henri, 
"  not  excepting  the  dear  little  mistress  of 
all  these  broad  lands." 

"  Hush,  Henri !"  she  said ;  "  do  not  let  us 
talk  of  ourselves,  v.hen  there  are  bo  many 
beautiful  things  to  talk  about  and  admire." 
"  I  know  what  I  admire  most,"  said  Hen- 
ri. "All  these  things  are  beautiful  in  their 
way,  but,  mon  amje,  what  is  equal  to  a  cer- 
tain charming  demoiselle  who  stands  among 
these  frosted  trees  like  the  queen  of  an  en- 
chanted domain !" 

"  Henri,"  she  said, "  if  yon  continue,  I  shall 
send  you  into  the  house  to  toll  your  compli- 
ments to  Marraine." 

"  Would  you  be  so  cruel,"  ho  said,  "  ft8  to 
ban  ish  me  from  your  presence  t" 

"You  are  perverse,  cousin,"  she  said. 
"  Yon  Hatter  because  it  torment*  me." 

"  Where  is  your  friend  the  Laplander  this 
morning  f "  ho  asked. 

"  Oh,  why  will  yon  not  remember,  consm, 
said  H<516ne, indignantly,  "bo  is  not  a  Lap- 
lander f 

"  Well,  »'ini/)or»e,»tOK  ange,"  said  the  count, 
breaking  a  twig  as  he  spoke  from  one  of  the 


V 


136 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


bnsUcB.  "  By-tlie-way,  your  brother  is  an 
uncommon  good  follow." 

"Ob,  CouHiu  Henri,  you  like  liinil"  cried 
H61i)ne.  "  In  be  not  kind,  and  goud,  and 
handsome  ?" 

"All  the  rest,  mignonne,  but  not  handsome," 
said  the  young  man.  "The  Laplander  has 
certaiuly  all  the  beauty.    But  where  is  bet" 

"  Gone  to  the  village,"  said  II61fene,  a  little 
absently.  She  was  not  looking  at  her  cous- 
in then,  or  she  might  have  observed,  a  mali- 
cious smile  about  his  month. 

"I  thought  as  much,"  said  the  count; 
"his  penchant  for  the  village  is  common 
talk." 

"Penchant  for  the  village!"  said  H€lfene, 
opening  her  eyes  wide.  "Why,  he  never 
8x>eak8  of  it,  and  seldom  goes  there." 

"Eh  Men,"  said  the  viscount,  shrugging 
his  shoulders.  "  It  is  clear,  my  pretty  cous- 
in, he  does  not  tell  you  bis  secrets." 

"  What  secrets  V  cried  H^l^ne,  pettishly. 
"  Cousin,  you  are  so  provoking !" 

"  So  you  are  provoked  at  the  idea  of  the 
Laplander  having  a  secret,"  said  the  vis- 
count. "  Yet  it  is  his  own  affair,  n'ett  ee  pas, 
ma  petite  t" 

"I  do  not  know  what  yon  are  talking 
about,"  said  U616ne,  a  little  crossly. 


AND  MAIB. 

your  brotbor  ia  an 

oil  like  bini!"  cried 
Liiid,  aud  good,  and 

',  but  not  bandsome," 
The  Laplander  has 
But  where  is  bet" 
'  said  II616ne,  a  little 
looking  nt  her  cons- 
ive  observed  a  niali- 
tntb. 

I,"  said  tbo  count; 
village  is  common 

llage!"  Baid  H€lfeno, 

.    "Why,  be  never 

goes  there." 

viscount,  shrugging 

oar,  my  pretty  cous- 

lis  secrets." 

d  H(51fene,  pettishly. 

roking !" 

1  at  tbo  idea  of  the 

crct,"  said  the  vis- 

vu  aiTair,  n'ett  cepas, 

at  yon  are  talking 
ttle  crossly. 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


137 


"  Well,  a  woman  will  have  her  way ;  and, 
aft«r  all,  the  whole  village  knows  it— that 
monsieur  tbo  Laplander  is  making  a  fool  of 
himself  over  tbo  little  maid  of  the  inn." 

H6lfeuo  felt  bewildered.  Somehow  bor 
cousin's  words  hurt  her. 

"  Chacun  a  son  gout,"  continued  the  vis- 
count; "but  it  would  not  be  mine.  What 
a  wife  to  bring  homo  to  his  people !" 

Hdlfene  felt  as  if  the  sunlight  and  tbo 
mild,  refreshing  air  were  fur  more  bleak  and 
dreary  than  yesterday's  rain  and  storm. 
She  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not. 

"You  do  not  like  that,  via  belle,"  be  said. 
"  Every  demoiselle  thinks  each  young  man 
her  proper  prey." 

" Cousin,"  said  Marguerite, proudly,  "you 
do  not  know  what  you  are  saying.  Monsieur 
Eric  is  our  guest:  I  do  not  want  him  spoken 
hardly  of,  that  is  all." 

"  I  do  not  speak  bardly  of  him  when  I 
say  be  loves  this  village  girl,"  said  the  vis- 
count, more  seriously. 

"  No,  but  yon  jeer  at  bim,  aud  I  will  not 
bavo  it:  he  is  my  brother's  friend," she  said. 
"  Talking  of  love,  won  ange,"  said  the  ^-is- 
connt,  "  I  know  some  ono  desperately  in 
love  with  yourself,  but  be  finds  you  so  cruel 
that  be  dares  not  speak  of  it.    Seriously, 


M 


\ 


138 


8EVEX  YEAJIS  AND  MAIR. 


Hflfeno,  yon  know  I  mean  myself.  What  do 
yea  say  to  it!" 

"  Ob,  coiiuin,"  sbe  said,  very  palo  and  gen- 
tle now,  "  I  am  so  sorry  I  Oli,  I  wish  I  bad 
known!" 

Ho  saw  slio  was  frigbtened,  so  bo  said, 

"  Consider  it  as  a  jest,  nm  petite :  sometime, 
wben  you  are  older,  wo  will  speak  of  it 
again." 

"  But  no,  consin,"  sbe  said,  earnestly,  "  I 
know  it  is  not  a  jest ;  and  you  ninst  never 
speak  of  love  to  me  again,  even  wben  I  am 
mncb,  mucb  older." 

He  saw  sbe  meant  wbat  she  said,  bnt  was 
not  mncb  alarmed  for  tbe  ultimate  success 
of  bis  suit.  He  readily  promised  not  to 
mention  tbo  obnoxious  tbeme,  witb  a  very 
decided  mental  reservation,  tbongb,  and  bade 
her  good-morning  just  in  time  to  exchange 
a  salute  witb  Eric,  who  was  coming  up  tbe 
avenue. 

After  he  had  gone,  H61fene  walked  slowly 
toward  the  house,  thinking  of  wbat  she  had 
hoard.  Madame,  who  was  at  her  embroid- 
ery in  one  of  tlie  windows,  called  to  her, 

"  Are  you  coming  in  soon,  too  petite  t  I 
want  yon." 

"  I  am  coming  at  once,  Marraine,"  answer- 
ed H616ne. 


M^Skfi/WfiV 


}  AXD  MAIR. 

Ban  myself.    What  do 

id,  very  palo  and  gon- 
'y !     Oil,  I  wiuh  I  had 

htened,  bo  ho  said, 
I,  ma  petite:  soniotinie, 
wo  will  speak  of  it 

ho  said,  earnestly,  "  I 

and  yon  ninst  never 

gain,  even  Avhen  I  am 

rhat  sho  said,  bnt  was 
the  iiltintato  success 
lily  promised  not  to 
IS  theme,  with  ft  very 
ktioD,  thongh,  and  bade 
t  in  time  to  exchange 
10  was  coming  up  the 

ri615ne  walked  slowly 
iking  of  what  sho  had 
I  was  at  her  embroid- 
lows,  called  to  her, 
in  soon,  ma  petite  t    I 

ice,  Marraine,"  answer- 


8KVKN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


139 


She  came  in,  and  madamo  did  not  look  at 
hor  closely  enough  to  perceive  that  »  little 
of  her  usual  joyonsnoss  was  wanting. 
"  You  said  you  wanted  me,  Marraine  T 
"  Yes ;  sit  down  hero  at  my  feet,"  said  ma- 
(Ini         "  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

i-       lid  not  ask  what,  oud  madaine  began, 
a  lit       nervously, 

"  .Now  you  must  not  be  alarmed  nor  vexed 
atwliatIaHiabouttosay,i)e<i<c." 

"  Why  should  I  bo  alarmed  or  vexed,  Mar- 
raine t"  said  ll616no,  raising  her  eyes,  and  fix- 
ing them  on  madame's  face.  ^^ 
"  There  is  no  reason  whatever,  my  deor, 
said  madumo,  hastily  ;  "  but  I  wanted  to  tell 
you  that  perhaps,  under  the  circumstances, 
it  would  bo  as  well  if  you  were  not  quite  so 
much  with  Mousieur  Eric." 

Hdlfeno's  eyes  floshed,  and  she  drew  her- 
self up  proudly.  What  could  this  meant 
she  thought— tho  same  insinuation  that  her 
cousin  had  made. 

"  Not  but  that  he  is  a  most  charming  per- 
son," said  madame,  "  but  because  ho  is  a 
stranger;  and  as  we  all  hope  you  will  one 
day  marry  Henri  Stewart,  wo—" 

"  Marraine,"  said  H61fenc,  rising  to  her  feet 
and  speaking  with  sudden  passion,  "as  to 
Monsieur  Eric,  I  do  not  understand  yon; 


I 


140 


^VEN  TKAR8  AND  MAin. 


l)iit  Olio  filing  I  ,lo  know— I  will  novor  mar- 
ly Henri  SUnvuit;  never,  never!" 

Her  face  looked  so  pale,  ifa  pretty  child- 
ishness of  ex|)re88ion  seemed  ho  utterly  jjone, 
nnd  a  sort  of  imtient  misery  to  have  taken 
its  place,  that  madamo  lo()ked  at  lier  in 
wonder  and  alarm.  As  she  turned  to  reply, 
she  saw  Kric  standing  on  the  thieshold,  un- 
certain whether  to  advanuo  or  retire. 

"Come  in.  Monsieur  Eric,"  she  said,  gra- 
ciously. "Mademoiselle  H<516no  does  not 
feci  well ;  her  heod  aches." 

Eric  came  in,  and  addressing  H61^ne,  with 
an  expression  of  real  concern  on  his  face, 
said, 

"Are  you  sufTcring,  mademoiselle t  Is 
there  anything  I  can  dot" 

He  spoke  very  kindly,  and  H<51hne  felt  the 
kindness.    She  answered,  smiling  faintly, 
■     "  I  am  not  suffering  very  much,  tliouk 
j-ou." 

"Sit  down  in  the  ,/ii«tc«i;,  H61.>ne,"  said 
niadame,  "and  I  will  bathe  your  head  with 
eatt  gedatlf." 

"That  may  relieve  you,"  said  Eric:  "I 
trust  it  will."  ' 

Her  face,  as  she  raised  it  to  him,  looked 
pitiful  somehow,  and  ho  felt  a  compassion 
deeper  than  the  occasion  warranted.     Per- 


i 


AND  MAin. 

V — I  will  novor  iimr- 
T,  iievor!" 

lalo,  jft)  prolty  child- 
wikmI  ho  iitferly  (foiio, 
lisnry  to  Imvo  taken 
J  lookml  At  hor  in 
8ho  turned  to  replj', 
n  the  tliK^shuld,  iin- 
iici)  or  nitiro. 
Eric,"  hIio  said,  gra- 
lo  Ildli^no   doi-8   not 

8." 

ressinRHdlftno,  with 
ouccrn  ou  liig  face, 

niademoisollo  t  la 
1" 

and  II(;i^no  felt  tLe 
il,  smiling  faintly, 

very  rancb,  thank 

iileuil,  TTdl&ne,"  said 
itho  your  head  with 

ron,"8aid  Eric;  "I 

d  it  to  liim,  looked 
)  felt  (V  conipassioa 
n  warranted.     Per- 


amyWiitmaaijai 


1 


8BVKN  YGAHS  AND  MAIIU 

liaps  lie  liwl  hoanl  her  passionate  wonls, 
and  suspected  thatHio  cause  lay  deeper  than 
in  any  jdiysii;"!  sntrering.  After  a  few  more 
words  of  sympathy,  1'"  retired,  and  left  nm- 
dame  to  soothe  her  patient  aa  fur  as  lay  iu 
her  power. 

"Forgive  me,  Marraino,"  she  said,  raising 
hor  eyes  wearily ;  "  I  spoke  so  hastily.    But 
you  know  1  do  not  wish  to  marry  for  many 
years  to  come ;  and  even  then,  I  think,  if  you 
please,  1  would  rather  it  should  not  be  Ilonri." 
"Very   well,  dear,  very    well,"  said  ma- 
dame  ;  "  you  shall  marry  whoever  you  plooae. 
But  rest  now ;  you  look  palo  and  tired." 
"  I  am  tired,  MaiTttine,"  she  answered. 
And  modamo  said  no  more.     She  had  not 
told  Hdlene  that  the  worniDg  was  suggest- 
ed by  Douglas,  who  feared  Eric's  iufluouco 
ou  his  sister. 

Tiiat  night  Eric  hod  rnther  a  stormy  in- 
terview with  Douglas.  The  latter  came  iu 
lat«,  having  spent  the  afternooi  and  even- 
ing at  the  Stewart  estate,  where  his  cousin 
had  taken  pains  to  instil  all  sorts  of  suspi- 
cions against  Eric  into  his  mind,  lie  open- 
ly charged  his  friend  with  having  trifled  with 
Nanette's  affections  to  gratify  his  own  con- 
ceit, and  then  left  her  to  the  ridicule  of  her 
friends  a^Jrt  corapuuious.   Eric  justified  hini- 


•' iVW».'!!akW.W'm8*U  ■itJl!,'''..J'.l.l.WWJII|JIMI.i»l' 


Itt 


8EVKN  YEARS  AND  MAIIl. 


aelf  as  well  08  Iio  coiilil ;  but,  as  Im  was  bouml 
ill  honor  t<»  rovoul  nothing  of  wliiit  liuil  piws- 
<scl  at  iho  interview  witli  Nanette,  Douglas 
did  not  give  much  wciglit  to  tlie  Htory.  Af- 
ter  an  aiiiiuai,cd  discusaiou  of  the  matter, 
Erie  Maid, 

"To  put  an  end  to  the  snlijoct,  I  may  m 
•well  tell  you  that  to-morrow  morning  I  shall 
ask  Nanette  to  marry  mo." 

"  To  nuirry  you !"  cried  Donglas,  in  amoze- 
ment.  "  And  your  parents— what  will  thov 
Btty  f "  ' 

"  That  I  cannot  tell,"  answered  Krio ;  "  but 
I  believe  I  am  doing  what  is  right.  Nanette 
is  free  to  accept  or  ri-jcct  mo,  but  I  shall  give 
her  the  option." 

As  he  spoke,  the  bell  in  the  tower  struck 
midnight.  Like  n  flash,  the  thoughts  of 
both  flew  back  to  Calais,  the  room  in  the 
hotel,  the  clock  in  the  neighboring  church. 
Douglas  let  his  hemi  fall  upon  the  table  and 
almost  sobbed. 

"  O  God  1"  he  cried, "  would  tbn^  I,  at  least, 
had  never  scon  Tourainel" 

"The  past  is  past,  my  friend,"  said  Eric, 
laying  his  band  on  Douglas's  shoulder.  "  Wo 
cannot  alter  it.     But  God  help  ns  nil !'' 

As  Douglas  rose  to  leave  the  room,  Eric 
Mid, 


tl 
tl 

Ul 

n 
I 

h 

m 
tl 
n 

h 
a: 


1[ 


AKD  MAin. 

Itnt,  08  lio  was  bound 

ll^of  Wllllt  lllulpUHM- 

lli  Niinctto,  l>oiij{ln» 
lit  to  tlio  Htory.  Al- 
Mlou  of  tliu  umttor, 

10  Nulijocf,  I  may  nn 

TOW  iiioriiiiig  I  shall 

..." 

I  Douglas,  in  amnze- 

uts — wliut  will  they 

mswercd  Kric ;  "  but 
»t  in  right.  Nanette 
imo,  but  loLallgivo 

in  the  tower  struck 
lb,  the  thoughts  of 
is,  the  roouj  in  the 
loighboring  church, 
upon  the  table  and 

ouldth'i^  I,  at  least, 

!" 

f  friend,"  said  Eric, 

iis'h shonhlitr.    "Wo 

d  help  ns  nil!" 

avo  the  room,  Erio 


HUVEN   YKAltS  AND  MAIlt. 


143 


"  Do  not  think  hardly  of  nie,  Douglas,  by 
the  memory  of  our  boyhoo<l  and  youth,  and 
the  friendship  since  then  continued  between 
m\" 

"  I  will  try  to  think  of  you  as  I  have  al- 
ways done,"  said  Douglas,  slowly  ;  "  and,  re- 
luombering  the  deep  obligations  under  which 
I  am  to  you,  will  forget  tlie  uiiliai»iiinc88  you 
have  caused  tne." 

"And  is  it  in  this  woy  wo  must  part," 
said  Erio,  sadly  — "you  talking  of  obliga- 
tions as  if  to  a  mere  stranger  f  Can  wo 
never  bo  friends  again  ?" 

"We  shall  always  be  friends,"  said  Doug- 
las; but  there  was  a  cohlness  and  an  eva- 
siveness in  his  voice  that  Erio  did  not  like. 

"Good-bye,  then,  Douglas,"  said  Eric. 

"Good -bye,"  answered  Douglas,  parting 
thus  from  tho  one  true  frioiul  that  life  hail 
given  him.  Erio  spent,  tho  night  pacing  the 
room.  Again  and  again  recurred  to  him  his 
niothei-'s  words;  "Tho  highest  kind  of  hero- 
ism consists  in  sacrificing  one's  self  for  the 
good  of  others."  And,  pondering  thus,  tho 
dreary  night  passed  and  the  dawn  broke. 


il 


■'  immfai'mtmrnmrm 


144 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


CHAPTER  X. 

"Fear  not  that  while  aronnd  thee 

Life's  varied  blesBlngs  pour, 
One  sigh  of  hers  shall  wound  thee, 

Whose  smile  thon'lt  see  nu  more. 
No  i  dead  and  cold  forever 

Let  my  past  love  remain ; 
Once  gone,  Its  spirit  never 

Shall  hannt  thy  rest  again. 
Think  how,  asleep  or  waking, 

Thy  image  haunts  me  yet ; 
But  how  this  heart  is  breaking 

For  thy  own  peace  forget." 

MOORK. 

Next  raorniiig  Eric  loft  the  house  with- 
out waiting  to  see  auy  one.  Ho  walked 
rapidly  toward  tlie  ihn,  ns  one  who  has  a 
set  purpose  in  view  from  which  ho  cannot 
he  deterred.  When  he  entered  the  kitchen, 
Nanette  was  sitting,  pale  and  dejected,  at 
her  spinning.  Her  father  wa^  smoking,  as 
usual,  before  the  fire.  To  him  Eric  at  once 
addressed  himself: 

"May  I  have  a  moment's  conversation 
with  your  daughter!" 

"  I  belie"o  you  have  had  too  many  al- 
ready," said  the  man,  gruffly.     "Fine  gcn- 


tli 
fr 

lil 

y< 


ir 
h 


AND  MAIR. 


ER  X. 

lie  around  thee 
CBsiiigs  pour, 
Bhnll  wound  thee, 
lou'lt  see  nu  more. 
Id  forever 
ve  remain ; 
Irlt  never 
'  rest  agnlD. 
p  or  waking, 
nts  me  yet ; 
rt  is  breaking 
snce  forget." 

MOOBS. 

loft  tbo  house  witli- 
y  one.  Ho  walked 
1,  na  one  who  has  a 
om  wliich  he  cannot 
entered  the  kitchen, 
lale  and  dejected,  at 
her  was  smoking,  as 
To  him  Erie  at  once 

tment's  couversatiou 

e  had  too  many  nl- 
gruffly.     "Fine  gcn- 


8EVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


145 


tlemen  like  you,  stealing  away  giiU'  hearts 
from  honest  men!"  • ,  r.  ■     „ 

"Spare  me  your  reproaches,"  said  i.ric,a 
little  impatiently.  "  I  have  come  to  ask 
your  consent  to  our  marriage,  provided  JNa- 
uette  bo  willing."  .      „     i    , 

"  Your  marriage !"  said  the  landlord,  chang- 
ing his  tone  at  once.  "  You  do  her  too  much 
honor,  monsieur."  . ,  „  .    , 

"  Have  I  vour  consent!"  said  Eric,  lacon- 
ically, "and'may  I  see  her  a  moment  alone  f 
"  Certainly,  monsieur,  certainly ;"  and  the 
landlord  rose,  and  left  Eric  alone  with  Na- 
nette. ,  .  . 
She  set  like  one  in  a  trance,  pale,  quiet, 
and  motionless.  Eric  approached  her,  and 
baid,  very  gently, 

»  Nanette,  you  heard  my  conversation  witli 

your  father.    You  know  why  I  hav«  come. 

Tell  me,  then,  can  it  he  t"        . ,  .„    ,         . , 

"You  want  me  for  your  wifot"  she  saiU, 

in  a  strange,  quiet  voice. 

"Yes,"  he  said;  "do  you  think yoa could 
be  happy  t" 

"  Happy  t"  she  said,  her  breath,  catching 
a  little  in  her  throat.  "  Happy  t  Ah,  yes. 
But  I  understand  you  are  marrying  me  from 
pity,  and  because  bad -hearted  iwople  may 
jeer  at  my  hopeless  love." 


■MP 


146 


SEVEN  TEARS  AND  MAIR. 


"Wby  do  j'ou  say  ttiis,  Nanette  t"  lie  aaiil, 
■witL  a  great  pity  iu  bis  eyes.  "  Wby  do  you 
iuflict  sucb  needless  pain  on  both  of  us  T" 

"And  so  you  are  to  bavo  all  the  paint" 
she  said.  "  No,  no ;  go  back  to  the  one  you 
do  love,  and  be  happy." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Nanette,"  lie  said,  qui- 
etly, "  I  do  not  love  any  one — in  the  way 
you'  mean,  at  least ;  and  if  I  do  not  love  you 
as  much  as  you  deserve,  I  will  try  so  to  act 
that  yon  will  not  feel  the  want  of  the  deep- 
er feeling  that  time  may  bring.  You  love 
me  a  little,  too,  do  you  not!" 

"  You  know  too  well  that  I  do,"  she  an- 
swered, "  and  in  yonr  heart  you  despise  me." 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you,"  he  said,  with  patient 
gentleness,  "  that  the  little  episode  of  yes- 
terday morning  was  forgotten  forever  t  I 
come  to-day,  not  to  recall  the  child,  but  to 
woo  the  woman." 

"  Bnt,"  she  said,  "yon  do  not  know  how  I 
plotted,  and  planned,  and  made  up  my  mind 
to  ensnare  you." 

"  That,  too,"  he  said, "  belongs  to  the  past. 
The  woman,  I  perceive,  is  anxious  to  do  pen- 
ance fur  the  little  folly  of  the  child.  An- 
swer me,  Nanette ;  will  you  be  my  wife  V 

She  did  not  answer  for  some  time;  then 
she  said,  simply,  "  When  t" 


ni 
A 

a 
t( 


i  AND  MAin. 

lis,  Nanette  t"  ho  saiil, 
»  eyes.    "  Wby  do  you 
tin  on  both  of  nsT" 
•  have  all  the  paint" 

>  back  to  the  one  you 

I) 

Nanette,"  he  said,  qui- 
aiiy  one — in  the  way 
d  if  I  do  not  love  you 
'e,  I  will  try  so  to  act 
the  want  of  the  deep- 
nay  bring.  You  love 
not!" 

11  that  I  do,"  she  an- 
leai't  you  despise  me." 
'  he  said,  with  patient 
little  episode  of  yes- 
orgotteu  forever  t  I 
call  the  child,  but  to 

>u  do  not  know  how  I 
nd  made  up  my  mind 

, "  belongs  to  the  past. 
,  is  anxious  to  do  pen- 
ly  of  the  child.    An- 
1  you  be  my  wife  f" 
for  some  time;  then 


1 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIK. 


147 


"  To-day  our  public  betrothal  must  take 
place.  Under  present  circumstances,  I  do 
not  wish  to  remain  long  at  the  chateau. 
After  that  ceremony  I  shall  go  away  for 
a  while,  then  return  to  take  you  with  n>o 
to  my  homo  far  over  the  sea." 

She  shivered  a  little,  but  answered,  qni- 

etl.V.  ,  .„.  .i. 

"  If  it  mnst  be  to-day,  I  am  willing.    At 

what  hour  V 

"I  shall  have  to  see  the  cnr6  at  once, 
said  Eric ;  "  then  I  will  let  you  know.     And 
I  beg  of  you,  meantime,  to  try  and  be  hap- 
py, and  not  to  consider  this  matter  in  the 
light  you  do." 

"You  want  mo  to  be  happy  at  your  ex- 
pense," she  said,  drearily.  "And  to-day  is 
the  betrothal  t    Very  well." 

After  a  few  more  words,  he  was  going  out, 
when  she  detained  him. 

"Have  it  to-day,"  she  said,  with  strange 
eagernes-s ;  "  do  no't  let  it  be  postponed." 

"It  shall  not  be  postponed,"  said  Eric, 
flnnly,  wondering  a  little. 

He  had  a  slight  altercation  with  the  cur6  s 
house-keeper,  one  of  those  amiable  individ- 
uals who  never  gave  any  information  it  was 
in  her  power  to  withhold.  She  admitted, 
after  much  discussion,  that  the  cur6  was  at 


148 


SEVEN  TEARS  AND  MAIR. 


home,  anil,  after  fiirtber  persnasion,  allowed 
Eric  to  enter.  The  cur<5,  recognizing  him 
ftt  ouce,  greeted  liim  very  kindly,  jnid  lis- 
tened with  the  grcateat  interest  to  his  sto- 
ry. Eric  gave  him  only  the  merest  out- 
lines, but  the  cur6  shrewdly  suspected  there 
was  more  in  the  matter  than  at  first  appear- 
ed. Ho  advised  him  to  act  with  great  cau- 
tion ;  to  consider  his  parents  and  their  prob- 
able opinion  of  such  a  match,  speaking  with 
such  fatherly  kindness  that  it  brought  the 
tears  to  Eric's  eyes.  Still,  he  said  that  the 
betrothal  must  take  place  that  day,  and  that 
it  was  his  special  wish  it  should  be  made  as 
public  as  possible.  The  cur(5  consented  to 
everything  when  he  saw  that  Eric  was  de- 
termined to  carry  the  matter  through.  Eric, 
leaving  him,  returned  to  the  inn  to  tell  Na- 
nette the  hour,  then  wont  home  to  the  chflr 
teau. 

Madame  and  H61fene  had  just  finished  an 
nnnsually  late  breakfast.  They  greeted  him 
■with  laughing  Inquiries,  bat  he  noticed  that 
H615no  was  a  little  more  thoughtful  than 
usual. 

"  It  is  indeed  a  lovely  day,"  he  said,  in  an- 
swer to  a  remark  of  madame's ;  "  and  I  have 
every  reason  to  be  glad,  because  it  is  my  be- 
trothal-day." 


e( 
h 


18  AND  MAIR. 

er  persuasion,  allowed 
curd,  recoRiiizing  him 
very  kindly,  mid  lis- 
!8t  interest  to  liis  sto- 
oiily  tlio  merest  out- 
ewdly  suspected  there 
ir  than  nt  first  appenr- 
to  act  with  great  cau- 
arcnts  and  tlieir  proh- 
niatch,  speaking  with 
s  tliat  it  brought  the 
Still,  ho  said  that  the 
lace  that  day,  and  that 
I  it  should  he  made  as 
'he  cnr<5  consented  to 
iw  that  Eric  was  de- 
natter  through.  Eric, 
to  the  inu  to  tell  Na- 
ent  home  to  the  chAr 

»  had  just  finished  an 
St.  They  greeted  him 
!8,  but  he  noticed  that 
acre  thoughtful  than 

y  day,"  he  said,  in  an- 
idame's;  "and  I  have 
I,  because  it  is  my  be- 


8BVEN  YEAK8  AND  MAIR. 


149 


"Your  betrothal -day!"   cried   madame. 
"To  whom t" 

Hdlfeuo  did  not  say  anything,  only  listou- 
cd,  feeling  .1  strange  bewilderment. 

"  To  Nanette,  the  innkeeper's  daughter, 
he  answered,  (luietly. 

"  It  is  a  shame !"  said  madame,  vchoment- 
ly.  "You  are  infatuated— you  are  mad! 
What  will  your  father  say  t  and  your  beauti- 
ful, stately  mother,  of  whom  Douglas  speaks 
with  such  reverence  t" 

A  shade  of  sadness  fell  over  his  face. 
"  I  trust  they  will  say  I  have  done  well, 
he  answered.  ,   ,    •  t 

Madame  could  not  be  persuaded  into 
thinking  well  of  such  a  marriage.  How- 
ever, in  the  heat  of  her  discourse  she  was 
called  away  on  some  household  busmess. 
When  she  had  gone  Eric  walked  to  the 
window,  looked  out  a  moment,  then  turning 
again,  said  to  Hdliine, 

"  You,  at   least,  mademoiselle,  will   con- 
gratulate me;  you  have  not  the  prejudice 

of  caste."  ,      ,         , 

"Caste  cannot  be  considered  whore  two 

people  love  each  other,"  she  said,  quietly. 

"Loving  her  as  you  do,  I  congratulate  you. 
"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  earnestly.       1  am 

glad  to  have  your  good  wishes." 


'tmm 


150 


8KVEN  VEAHS  AND  MAIR. 


She  fluslied  slightly,  tlio  color  creeping  up 
licr  fair  glrliHli  throat  mid  into  lier  face.  "  I 
hope  you  will  bo  very  happy,"  she  said,  ear- 
nestly, "and  I  know  you  will.  Nanette  is 
both  pretty  and  good." 

"  Yes,  she  is  pretty  and  good,"  he  sr '  \  ab- 
sently. "  But,  mademoiselle,  I  must  now  sny 
good-bye.  I  cannot  return  here  after  the 
betrothal." 

"Nof"  she  said,  asking  no  further  ques- 
tion.    "  Then  it  is  really  good-bye  f" 

"  Really  good-bye,"  he  said. 

"Shall  we  see  you  again  in  TouraineT" 
she  asked. 

"Wlien  I  return  for  the  wedding,"  he  an- 
swered, briefly. 

"I  forgot," she  said;  "of  course  we  shall 
see  you  then." 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  turning  back 
from  the  door, "  will  you  think  of  mo  some- 
times in  your  prayers  t  You  are  so  good 
and  innocent,  yonr  prayers  must  be  heard." 

"I  will  pray  for  you,"  she  said,  simply, 
and  he  departed. 

There  was  the  balminess  and  freshness  of 
spring  in  the  air  that  afternoon— its  gentle 
radiance,  its  mild  sunshine,  its  tender,  thrill- 
i"g  joyonsuess.  The  church  was  crowded 
with  villagers,  all  eager,  excited,  and  curl- 


8  AND  MAIR. 

,  tlie  color  creeping  np 
and  into  lier  face.  "  I 
Imppy,"  she  said,  ear- 
you  will.     Nanette  is 

mdgood/'hesr^ab- 
>i8olle,  I  must  now  say 
return  Lore  afler  the 

:ing  no  further  quc?- 

lly  good-bye!" 

lie  said. 

again  in  Tourainet" 

tbe  wedding,"  he  aii- 

;  "  of  course  we  shall 

said,  turning    back 
)u  think  of  mo  sotne- 
T    You  are  so  good 
S'ers  must  be  heard." 
)u,"  sbo  said,  simply, 

iiess  and  freshness  of 
ifternooii — its  gentle 
ine,  its  tender,  thrill- 
shurch  Avas  crowded 
3r,  excited,  and  curi- 


8EVEX  YKAK8  AND  MAIK. 


151 


ons.     The  Douglas  pew  contained  inadame 
and  madomois..lle:  Kobcrt  was  nowhere  to 
be  seen.    As  tl.o  young  couple  passed  up 
the  aisle,  every  one  observed  that  Nanette 
x^^  deathly  palo,  and  that  her  eyes  sboue 
ITixX  Btra'nle  lustre.     Scarcely  a  glance 
was  given  at  Eric,  who  was  quiet,  and  self 
Tontaiucd,  and  grave.    When  they  reached 
the  altar,  the  priest  put  the  nsuai  q"««t'2t 
to  Eric.    They  were  answered  promptly  and 
flnnly,  and  the  priest  turned  to  Nanette,    xo 
their  astonishment,  she  said,  so  clearly  a.ul 
distinctly  that  it  was  heard  in  the  remotest 
corner  of  the  chnrch :  ,     ,    ,  .„4i,„f 

"  I  do  distinctly  and  solemnly  declare  that 
I  will  not  pligbt  my  troth  to  the  gentleman 
beside  me,  known  in  the  village  as  Monsieur 
Eric.  He  has  most  nobly  and  generously 
offered  to  marry  me  out  of  pity.  I  declaro 
before  God's  altar  that  I  AviU  not  accept  tbe 
sacrifice,  and  that  he  is  free." 

Eric  stood  bewildered.  He  was  only 
roused  when  Nanette  fell,  faintiijg.  Ho 
raised  her  in  his  arms  most  tenderly,  and, 
forgetting  everything  else,  carried  her  out 
of  fhe  church  and  to  her  home.  She  lay  in 
a  long  swoon,  from  which  sbe  recovered  ouly 
to  CO  into  another.  . 

Eric  remained  at  the  inn  till  it  was  quito 


158 


SEVEN  YEAB8  AND  MAIB. 


loto;  tboii,  being  infonnod  that  she  soometl 
ft  little  hotter,  ho  doimrted.  He  had  matle 
lip  his  mind  to  cross  the  river  and  (hid  lodg- 
ings ou  tho  opposite  shore.  It  was  n  dark 
night.  Tho  moon  was  gone  down,  and  even 
the  stars  were  somewhat  dim,  scarcely  re- 
lieving tho  intense  darkness.  It  was  very 
silent  on  tho  rivor-bank,  and  not  a  boai;  to 
bo  seen.  At  last,  as  ho  waited  anxiously,  ho 
saw  a  solitary  bark  approaching  tlie  shore. 
'1  ho  boatman  was  alouo,  and  Eric  hailed 
hill). 

"Will  you  take  mo  across!     I  am  anx- 
ious to  get  over  to-night." 

The  niau  answered  afflrmatively  in  a  sort 
of  uinaiod  voice  that  sent  a  chill  tiirongh 
Eric's  heart.  However,  he  jumped  into  the 
boat,  and  thoy  were  soon  speeding  out  into 
the  water.  Not  a  sound  but  tho  plash  of 
the  oars  broke  the  silence.  The  boatman 
was  so  mucli  wrapped  up,  and  the  lower 
part  of  his  face  so  nmlHed  by  the  cloak,  that 
Eric  could  not  catch  a  glimpse  of  him.  On 
they  sped,  through  tho  night  and  through 
the  darkness.  At  last  they  heard  noises 
which  warned  them  of  the  approach  of  a 
steamboat.  It  came  on  swiftly,  and  as  it 
passed  them  Eric  caught  a  glimpse  of  his 
companion's  face  at  last.     With  amazement 


h< 
tfl 
W 

St 

tl 
til 
fr 
ei 
T 
nj 

lii 
tl 
It 

m 


ci 

tl 
h 


di 
si 
E 
T 

0( 

a 

tl 


AND  MAIR. 

led  that  alie  soctned 
rtcil.  lie  Imd  mode 
rivor  ftiid  lind  lod>{- 
oro.  It  was  n  dark 
[ouo  down,  and  even 
at  dim,  scarculy  ro- 
kness.  It  was  very 
c,  and  not  a  boau  to 
vaitcd  anxiously,  ho 
roachiug  the  shore. 
10,  and  Erie  hailed 

icrosat     I  am  anx- 

Irraativ'oly  in  a  sort 
int  a  chill  tiirough 
ho  jumped  into  the 
11  speeding  out  into 
I  hut  the  plash  of 
lice.  The  boatman 
up,  and  the  lower 
il  by  the  cloak,  that 
limpseofhim.  On 
night  and  through 
they  heard  noises 
the  approach  of  a 
1  swiftly,  and  as  it 
>t  a  glimpse  of  his 
With  amazement 


8KVEN  YEAHS  AND  MAIR. 


153 


lie  recognized  Douglas.  lie  had  not  time 
to  speak  or  givi!  any  sign  of  his  discovery. 
Whether  it  wii.i  the  swell  of  the  passing 
steamboat  or  what,  they  never  knew,  but 
the  boat  begun  to  lill  with  water;  then  it 
turned  rapiilly  and  upset.  Eric  seized  his 
friend,  anil  by  great  good-fortune  both  wore 
enabled  to  eat.'h  a  linn  hold  of  the  boat. 
Then  followed  one  fearful  moment,  full  of 
agoidzing  suspense,  of  solemn  thonghl,  of 
lightning-like  retrospection,  and  they  saw 
that  the  boat  could  not  snjjport  them  both. 
It  strained  and  creaked,  and  in  another  mo- 
ment would  have  snapped ;  but  Eric,  quick 
as  tlionght,  cried, 

"  Keep  a  firm  hold,  old  fellow !  I  will  take 
care  of  myself." 

He  let  go,  and  as  ho  was  swept  away  in 
the  darkness,  Douglas  heard,  or  thought  ho 
heard,  his  voice  coining  back  faintly, 

"  If  1  die,  let  this  be  reparation  I" 

But  the  accident  had  been  seen  from  the 
deck  of  the  little  steamer.  As  quick  as  pos- 
sible it  put  back,  and  succeeded  in  saving 
Douglas  just  as  he  was  becoming  exhausted. 
They  searched  for  Erie,  but  no  trace  of  him 
could  be  ft)nnd.  The  Loire  flowed  on,  dark 
and  silent,  and  the  steamboat  swept  toward 
the  shore.    Douglas  lost  cousciousuess,  and 


lo4  SEVKN  YKAnS  AND  MAIH. 

did  not  revive  till  lie  had  been  broiiRht  home 
to  the  cliAtcftii.  Ho  gnvo  thom  ii  bii.f  ac- 
oouut  of  what  had  occiiriod,  n»  hooh  ns  ho 
VTM  dMo;  but  tho  only  comment  ho  modo 
on  it  wnH, 

"A  brnvti  and  loyal  heart  was  bnriod  to- 
night in  tho  Loire  J  and  to  eavo  my  life!  to 
Bftvo  my  lifo!" 

imhm  WH8  vory  Hiloiit.  Ilcr  cbildiHlniPBs 
wan  goiio;  alio  seemod  more  womanly.  Sho 
cared  for  Douglas  tenderly,  making  no  com- 
ments on  what  had  liappcncl,  never  men- 
tioning Kiic's  name.  She  was  Jiavo  and  re- 
signed;  accepting  hia  death  as  a  crona  in- 
deed, but  Olio  which  was  llower- wreathed. 
It  was  such  a  noble,  licroic  death  to  die— ji 
iltting  ending  to  »  pure  and  blameless  lifo! 
And  sho  felt,  someliow,  as  if  ho  would  bo  as 
near  to  hor  in  death  as  in  life.  Ho,  tho  only 
alteration  visible  in  her  face  or  manner  was 
an  increased  Geriousness,  and  a  greater  gen- 
tleness and  patience.  Madame  was  loud  in 
lier  grief,  especially  at  first;  but  Douglas 
was  stricken,  bowed  to  tho  earth  by  a  weight 
of  snftering.  Ho  could  not  forget  that  this 
was  tho  last  of  all  tho  benellts  a  brave  and 
gentle  heart  would  confer  on  him.  Ho 
thought  bitterly  cnongh  of  tho  long,  de- 
voted fiiocdship  which  nothing  but  death 


111 

fti 

k 
u: 
h 

C( 

w 
d 
ii 
■n 
n 
ii 
g 


B  AND  MAIR. 

ml  been  brought  home 
jftve  them  u  brief  ac- 
L'lineil,  im  hooii  ns  ho 
ly  coiuinuut  ho  inado 

lioart  was  burled  to- 
d  to  savo  my  lifu!  to 

lit.  Ilcr  childiHhiiess 
nH)ro  womanly,  glio 
erly,  nmking  no  coui- 
appcno'l,  never  inon- 
lio  was  aravo  and  ro- 
deatli  as  n  eroHs  in- 
ns llower- wreathed, 
iroic  death  to  die — a 
e  and  bhnncless  life! 
na  if  lie  would  bo  as 
in  lifo.  Ho,  tlio  only 
•  face  or  manner  was 
H,  and  a  greater  gen- 
Madame  was  loud  in 
;  first;  bnt  Donghis 
heeartli  by  ii  weijjlit 
not  forget  that  tliis 
beuotlta  a  brave  and 
infer  on  him.  Ho 
[h  of  the  long,  do- 
1  nothing  but  death 


BBVEN  YEAR8  AKD  UAIB. 


155 


hail  power  to  cliangc.  TIio  frank,  handsome 
face  haunted  liiin  eontinuuUy — tho  violet 
eyes  and  yellow  Imir. 

Meanwliilc,  at  tho  inn  Nanette  \u\  all  night 
long  between  'ifo  a  d  death.  In  her  dultri- 
nui  she  calleil  upon  Erie  to  come  and  save 
her;  then  she  shnditeringly  repnlned  hiui, 
conjuring  him  to  leave  her.  Douglas,  too, 
was  mixed  up  in  her  wild  fiMieies.  Toward 
dawn  sho  seemed  calmer;  and  as  the  morn- 
ing grow  brighter  and  brighter,  and  the 
wood-liirk  sang  high  in  tho  licavtMis,  Na- 
nette was  slee]>ing,  lier  long  fair  hair  flow- 
ing loose  upon  the  pillow,  and  iier  breathing 
geutlo  and  natural. 


166 


MtVEN  YSAB8  AND  MAIIl. 


CFIAPTKIl  XI. 

"Oh,  tho  mlKht  of  the  ilretiKlh  thnt  dwcllii  npart 
In  the  (loep,  ducp  cells  ofii  womau'ii  lieiirt ! 
Little  we  know  It,  nnd  mnn  mny  doom 
It  la  but  thii  liilo  of  nil  Idle  dream ; 
Uiit  theio  nrn  Hprhijrs  which  are  never  dry, 
Uiit  flow  on  111  (llonco  exhimetlemily  j 
And  there  me  chords  which,  If  onco  ye  sound  them, 
1  he  hourt  where  they  dwell  will  shiver  ronnd  them." 
From  the  UeniMiK 

TiiK  days  passed  by  lionvily  niid  dreari- 
ly; tho  wholt)  villuRo  Hccuind  to  bo  under  a 
cloud.  Tbo  trnBicttl  futo  of  tho  liaiidHoiuo 
young  stranger,  who  bad  made  biniwilf  gou- 
erally  beh»vcd,  was  univeraully  biinentod, 
and  cast  a  gloom  over  every  one.  However, 
Nanette  was  slowly  recovering ;  and,  when 
tho  long  suninior  days  came,  was  ublo  to  sit 
up  even  out-of-doors  during  tbo  warm,  sun- 
ny hours.  Tbo  sa<l  news  of  Eric's  death  had 
been  kept  from  her,  lest  in  her  weak  state  it 
should  bo  too  great  a  shock.  She  supposed 
that  ho  bud  returned  to  Foula.  Sometimes 
she  wondered  a  little  that  bo  had  not  left 
any  message  for  her ;  not,  she  argued,  that 
she  deserved  it,  but  from  her  knowledge  of 


i  AND  MArn. 


m  XI. 

1,'lh  that  dwells  npart 

I  wunmn'ii  lieiirt ! 

II  may  docm 
dream ; 

h  »ro  never  dry, 

luitleuly ; 

b,  iruiicu  ye  sound  them, 

I  will  shiver  rnnnd  them." 

From  the  (Jennan. 

heavily  niul  ilreari- 
leenicd  to  bo  under  a 
ifo  of  tlio  IiuimIsoiuo 
kI  iiiikIo  liinmolf  geu- 
livorsally  laineiitod, 
very  onu.  Ifowovor, 
Jovoriiig ;  ftiid,  when 
iaino,  WHS  able  to  sit 
iriiiR  tlio  wnrni,  81111- 
HofEric'sdeatlihad 

ill  her  weak  state  it 
lock.    She  supposed 

Foiila.  Soiiietiinos 
hat  lie  hud  not  left 
ot,  she  argued,  that 

II  her  knowledge  of 


HBVKN  YKAR8  AND  MAIIt. 


167 


his  nnlform  kindnosii  and  genoroalty.  If 
ever  she  n-pincd  at  liis  "ttnr  neglect,  she  In- 
stantly snlidii.^d  the  feeling.  Hlio  had  been 
the  cause  of  piiin  and  trouble  to  hlin;  why 
shouldhonot  try  to  forget  her  f 

Her  chair  was  carried  into  the  garden,  and 
usually  placed  against  that  wall  where  the 
sun  fell  brightest  and  warmest.    Hhe  spent 
hours  there,  pale  and  <iuiet,  her  eyes  a  lit- 
tle sad,  her  face  white  and  wan,  her  manner 
serious  and  subdued.     One  day,  as  she  sat 
there,  she  heard  two  strangers  talking  near 
the  open  wiiulow.    Their  voices  came  out 
to  her  through  the  leaves  that  crept  thickly 
up  the  wall.    They  spoke  of  the  handsomo 
young  stranger,  his  noble  death,  and  the 
debt  owed  to  his  memory  by  the  house  of 
Douglas.     They   were  startled   by   a  faint 
moan.    Nanette  had  fainfed.    She  was  con- 
lined  to  bed  for  a  day  or  two  after  that ;  she 
soon  recovered,  however,  and,  a  little  raoro 
weary,  but  patient,  sat  in  her  accustomed 
place  by  the  wall  where  the  viiu^s  clustered 
green  and  tiiick,  and  the  sun  shone  down 
longest  mid  brightest.    She  expressed  a  firm 
belief  that  Eric  was  still  alive:   nothing 
could  persuade  her  to  the  contriny.    She  al- 
ways declared  ho  would  one  day  return  to 
Touraino.    More  tUau  ouce  H6li)uo  camo  to 


158 


BEVEX  YEARS  ASTD  MAin. 


see  her,  and  clioered  her  with  her  happy  face 
and  pleasant  Avords.    Hdlfeuo's  old  joyous- 
nes8  had  iiot  entirely  deserted  her,  thouch 
none  would  have  now  compared  her  to  a 
bird,  nuless  to  one  that  dreams  of  the  merrv 
Kreenwood,  and  the  free  wild  forest,  behind 
the  bars  of  its  cage.     Yet  Hdlfeue  looked 
happy;  there  was  a  look  of  peace  aud  con- 
tentment on  her  face  that  communicated  it- 
seit  to  all  who  conversed  with  her.    To  any 
one  who  knew  her  secret,  her  present  con- 
duct would  have  been  a  revelation,  showins 
her  character  ,n  a  new  light ;  she  went  about 
her  ordinary  occupations  brightly,  coura- 
geously, and  firmly,  never  permitting  her 
grief  to  interfere  with  whatever  came  in  her 
way  as  duties  to  be  fulfilled.    Yet  the  hand- 
some, fearless  face,  and  the  lithe,  manly  fi..- 
ure  were  seldom  absent  from  her  thoughtl 
At  n.ght,  particularly,  they  haunted  her, 

variety  of  forms  and  shapes  to  her  troubletl 
mind.  In  one  way,  above  all,  she  never  for- 
got him,  and  that  was  iu  prayer.  She  i-e- 
inembered  how  he  had  asked  her  for  prayers 
cred        '^"'■'"'S'  *°'l  I^eld  his  request  as  sa- 

K6]hne'a  visits  did  Nanette  good.    She  of 
course,  knew  uothing  of  the  demoiselle's'se- 


cn 
tv 
gc 

Wl 

w 

I'l 

l! 

& 
T 
w 
tl 
a 
ii 
a 
S 

r 

e 

li 
(1 
c 
i 
i 
< 
< 


~-.ma 


i  AND  MAin. 


r  with  ber  happy  face 
H615ne'8  old  joyous- 
deserted  her,  though 
'  compared  her  to  a 
dreams  of  the  merry 
e  ■wild  forest,  behind 

Yet  Hdlhne  looked 
)k  of  peace  and  con- 
lat  communicated  it- 
id  with  her.  To  any 
ret,  her  present  con- 
i  revelation,  showing 
ght;  she  went  about 
)n8  brightly,  coura- 
iver  permitting  her 
hatover  came  in  her 
lied.  Yetthehand- 
the  lithe,  manly  flg- 

from  her  thoughts, 
they  haunted  her, 
sleep,  and  taking  a 
ipos  to  her  troubled 
■'e  all,  she  never  for- 
in  prayer.  She  re- 
sked  her  for  prayers 
d  his  request  as  sa- 

lette  good.    She,  of 
the  demoiselle's  se- 


SEVEN  YBABS  AND  MAIR. 


159 


cret,  nor  what  a  bond  of  union  existed  be- 
tween them ;  but  she  know  that  H6lSne  was 
good,  and  pure,  and  sweet,  that  her  nature 
was  both  wholesome  and  sympathetic,  and, 
while  she  respected,  she  loved  her. 

One  afternoon  Nanette  was  in  ber  usual 
place  by  the  wall,  watching  the  leaves  rus- 
tling, and  the  trees  making  shadows  on  the 
.  iirden  walk,  and  playing  among  the  grasses. 
The  deep-hued  hearts  of  the  flowers  were 
Avaftiu"  their  burdens  of  fragrance  out  upon 
the  summer  air;  the  thrueh,  and  the  linnet, 
and  all  the  woodland  birds  were  twittering 
in  joyous  little  cadences  among  the  foliage, 
ami  "Nanette  felt  very  calm  and  peaceful. 
She    had   been   praying— a  calm,  hopeful 
prayer— and  when  that  was  ended  had  lall- 
en  into  a  quiet  dreaminess.    Her  eyes  were 
fixed  out  far  beyond  the  garden  wall,  where, 
dimly  and  in  the  blue  distance,  the  Loire 
could  be  seen  flowing  on  its  ceaseless  way. 
She  heard  a  step  on  the  walk,  but  did  not 
turn  her  head,  supposing  that  Lucille  was 
coming  to  take  her  from  the  serene  beauty 
of  the  summer's  day.     Seeki  ug  to  catch  the 
last  glimpses  of  it  and  drink  in  its  tender 
sweetness,  she  started  only  when  a  voice  said, 

near  her,  ,„ 

"Nanette, do  you  turn  away  from  moT 


160 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


"From  you,  milord,"  eaid  sLo,  quietly, 
tuniiug  and  Bceing  the  Douglaa:  "uo;  wby 
Blioald  i  turn  from  you  t" 

"  Do  you  not  feel  that  a  noble  life  has  paid 
the  forfeit  of  my  worthless  one  f" 

"  Not  worthless — oh,  not  worthless !"  she 
said :  "  precious,  very  precious  to  loving 
hearts.  But,  milord,  he  is  not  dead.  Ho 
will  return," 

"  Not  dead !"  cried  Douglas.  "  Why,  have 
yon  heard  t" 

"I  have  heard  only  mj  ucart,"  she  said, 
"and  that  tells  me  he  is  still  alive." 

"  Are  you  growing  stronger,  Nanette  T" 
oslied  Douglas,  changing  the  subject  abrupt- 
ly, for  he  wished  to  leave  this  blessed  hope 
to  cheer  the  girl's  sad  heart. 

"A  little  stronger,"  she  answered;  "this 
beautiful  weather  revives  me." 

"  Yon  will  soon  be  quite  well,"  ho  said, 
anxiously. 

"If  it  is  God's  will,  I  hope  so,"  she  an- 
swered, quietly.  "  I  am  too  great  a  care  to 
the  old  people." 

After  a  little  silence,  filled  only  by  the 
sweet  sounds  of  summer,  Nanette  said, 

"These  beautiful  days  make  mo  happy." 

"  Happy  t"  said  Douglas ;  "  are  you  really 
happy  t" 


SOI 

in 
on 
be 

in 


w 

81 
SC 

al 

ai 
B 

b 

ci 
li 


AND  MAIR. 

"  said  slio,  quietly, 
Douglaa:  "uo:  wby 

a  noble  life  has  paid 
J88  one  f" 

not  worthless!"  she 
precious  to  loving 
e  is  not  dead.     He 

uglas.    "  Why,  have 

mj  ucart,"  she  said, 
still  alive." 
stronger,  Nanette  T" 
;  the  subject  abrnpt- 
ire  this  blessed  hope 
)art. 

lie  answered;  "this 
38  nio." 
[uite  well,"  he  said, 

I  hope  so,"  she  an- 
1  too  great  a  care  to 

,  filled  only  by  the 
,  Nanette  said, 
i  make  mo  happy." 
as ;  "  are  you  really 


SEVEN  TEARS  AND  MAIR. 

"  I  am  content,"  she  answered,  smiling. 

He  saw  her  meaning,  and  said  nothing  for 
some  time.    He  began  again  rather  abruptly. 

"Nanette,"  said  ho,  "I  do  not  want  to 
trouble  or  disturb  you;  but  I  would  like 
once  more  to  oflfer  you  a  love  that  has  never 
been  divided,  nor  never  will." 

Sljo  turned  and  looked  at  him  wonder- 

ingly. 

"  Yon  love  mo  still  V  she  said. 
"I  love  you,  so  that  my  ouo  joy  in  life 
would  be  to  make  you  happy,"  he  answer- 
ed, firmly.  "  Perhaps  it  is  solfish  of  me  to 
speak  of  it,  yot  I  did  dream  that  you  might 
sometime  consent  to  become  my  wife,  and 
allow  me  to  care  for  yon." 

She  shivered  a  little.  It  hurt  her  that 
any  one  should  speak  to  her  of  marriage. 
But  she  answered,  in  a  low,  subdued  voice, 

"A  heart's  love  is  very  sweet;  but  it  JS 
better  that  I  should  not  be  your  wife.  I 
cannot  accept  so  much,  where  I  can  give  so 
little.    By-uiid-by  yon  will  see  this." 

He  was  about  to  protest,  but,  looking  at 
her,  he  restrained  himself. 

"You  know  best,  Nanette,"  he  said,  with 
no  shade  of  coldness  or  vexation  ;  "  but  re- 
member that  my  love  is  waiting  for  you  if 
ever  vou  need  it." 
-     *  11 


M«iHiwaii0 


162 


SEVEN  YEAK8  AND  MAIB. 


He  roBO  to  go. 

"  Good-bye,  Nanette,"  ho  said. 
"  Good-bye,  milord,"  sbo  said.     "  If  a  poor 
cirl's  cratitudo  is  worth  anything,  you  will 
always  have  it-that  and  her  prayers. 

«be  watched  him  pass  ont  the  garden 
cate,  and  thought  rather  sadly  of  that  chill 
evening  when  ho  had  come  from  the  cold, 
wintry  dusk  into  the  warmth  of  the  inn 
parlor,  accompanied  by  the  friend  who  had 
passed  so  suddenly  out  of  all  their  lyes. 
The  sun  was  becoming  shadowed,  the  birds 
were  singing  afar  off  in  the  forest  now,  and 
the  sky  ber;an  to  show  streaks  of  dark  pur- 
ple dowr  in  the  glowing  west.  Nanette, 
busy  with  thoughts  of  her  old  love,  took  no 
heed  of  these  signs  of  approaching  twilight, 
till  Lucille  came  to  bring  her  in  before  the 
chill  of  evening  should  fall  upon  the  earth. 

It  was  soon  after  this  that  Douglas  came 
in,  one  evening,  with  strange  news,  which 
struck  madame  and  mademoiselle  with  a  sort 
of  bewilderment.  Eric  was  not  dead.  Ho 
■was  in  the  cottage  of  some  fishermen,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Loire,  and  just  recover- 
ing from  a  long  and  severe  illness.  When 
H^lfene  heard  this  she  gave  way  for  the  farst 
time.  Her  wonderful  self-control  vanished 
in  an  instant,  aad,  la  tlio  brief  hour  of  com- 


cr 

in 
fr 
et 
b( 
et 
fli 
F 
it 

01 

h 

ci 
ti 
n 

V 

f 
o 

c 

0 


S  AND  MAIR. 


(,"  ho  said. 

'  slio  said.  "  If  a  TO"'' 
rth  anytbing,  you  will 
and  her  prayers." 

pass  out  the  garden 
her  sadly  of  that  chill 
1  come  from  the  cold, 
e  warmth  of  the  inn 
l)y  the  friend  who  had 
out  of  all  their  lives, 
ig  shadowed,  the  birds 
in  the  forest  now,  and 
w  streaks  of  dark  pur- 
iwing  west.     Nanette, 
)f  her  old  love,  took  no 
f  approaching  twilight, 
bring  her  in  before  the 
Id  fall  upon  the  earth, 
this  that  Douglas  came 
b  strange  news,  which 
nademoiselle  with  a  sort 
iric  was  not  dead.    Ho 

of  some  fishermen,  on 
Loire,  and  just  recover- 
i  severe  illness.  When 
le  gave  way  for  the  first 
"ul  self-control  vanished 
n  the  brief  hour  of  com- 


SKVEN  YKARS  AND  MAIR. 


163 


plete  abandonment  that  followed,  hor  broth- 
er read  her  secret,  and  pitied  her. 

Soon  after  dawn  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, Douglas  hastened  across  the  Loire  to  his 
friend.    Their  meeting,  as  might  bo  expect- 
ed, was  most  joyful.     Eric  told  his  friend 
how,  swimming  till  he  was  nearly  exhaust- 
ed, ho  had  been  borne  along  by  the  tide,  and 
finally  dashed  against  a  hard  substuuco. 
Fooling  with  his  hands,  he  discovered  that 
it  was  a  little  skilf,  or  fishing-boat,  at  anch- 
or out  in  the  stream.     By  a  violent  effort 
he  succeeded  in  getting  iuto  it ;  then  he  be- 
came unconscious,  and  knew  nothing  more 
till  he  found  himself  in  the  hut  of  the  fisher- 
man who  had  discovered  hiri  at  dawn.    Ho 
was  just  recovering  from  a  long  and  wasting 
fever,  which  had  left  him  weak  and  much 
emaciated.    He  asked  questions  about  every 
one  at  the  chateau  and  in  the  village.    Last 
of  all  he  said, 

"  And  how  is  Nanette  !" 
"She  has  been,  like  yourself,  very  ill,' 
said  Douglas.  "  No  one  ventured  to  toll  her 
of  your  accident,  till  she  overheard  some 
strangers  discussing  it.  She  has  never 
ceaaed  to  express  a  belief  that  you  were 
alive.    Strange,  is  it  not?"  , 

"  Strange  indeed,"  said  Eric,  musingly. 


164 


8EVEX  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


li 


"She  is  a  noble  girl,  Douglaa— tlio  stuff  of 
-which  heroiues  are  niado.  I  tell  you,  my 
friend,  1  regard  hor  with  reverence." 

"  I  wish  you  could  add,  with  love,"  said 
Douglas,  and  then  stopped. 

Eric  only  shook  his  head  and  sighed. 
"  Poor  Nanette !"  said  Douglas,  softly. 
By  this  time  it  was  bright  morning:  the 
fluu  was  high  in  the  heavens,  and  Douglas 
took  his  leave.  Thenceforth,  till  Erie  was 
able  to  bo  removed  to  the  chftteau,  Douglas 
visited  him  night  and  morning.  Before  long, 
however,  he  was  again  instivllcd  iu  his  old 
apartments  at  the  chftteau,  where  he  was 
cared  for  with  all  possible  kindness  and 
tenderness.  He  found  iUXbue  changed.  She 
was  uo  longer  the  child  who,  like  a  beau- 
tiful humming-bird,  flitted  from  flower  to 
flower  through  long  days  of  sunshine ;  yet 
she  seemed  to  be  very,  very  happy,  and  was 
just  as  full  of  the  old  sprightliness  and  nai- 
vete, which  had  charmed  him.  Her  piquant 
speeches  were  a  continual  source  of  pleasure 
and  amnscmontto  him,  especially  during  his 
convalescence. 

As  soon  ns  ho  was  able,  ho  went  down  to 
gee  Nanette.  She  was  sitting,  as  usual,  iu 
the  snnshino,  busied  with  i-ome  knitting. 
Such  light  work  was  all  she  vras  able  for 


S  AND  MAIR. 

DoiigluB — tlio  stuff  of 
iiido.     I  tell  you,  iny 
ith  rcvorence." 
add,  witb  love,"  said 
pped. 

head  and  sighed, 
id  Douglas,  softly. 
I  brijrht  Tiiorning:  tho 
hoftvons,  and  Douglas 
iicefortli,  till  Erie  was 
)  the  chateau,  Douglas 
inornin<?.  Beforelong, 
in  iiistivllcd  iu  his  old 
liftteau,  wboro  he  was 
lossiblo  kindness  and 
I  IKilfeno  changed.  She 
hild  who,  like  a  beau- 
flitted  from  flower  to 
days  of  sunshine ;  yet 
y,  very  happy,  and  was 
I  aprigbtliness  and  noi- 
led  hiui.  Her  piquant 
uual  source  of  pleasure 
m,  especially  during  his 

able,  ho  went  down  to 
ras  sitting,  as  usual,  iu 
L  with  -jonie  knitting. 
s  all  she  was  able  for 


BBVEK  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


165 


now.  She  received  him  very  quietly,  al- 
most sadlv.  When  ho  had  made  many  in- 
quiries, full  of  the  warmest  concern  for  her 
health,  bo  said, 

"Why  did  you  inflict  such  paui  on  your- 
self and  on  me  that  day  of  our  betrothal  t" 

"Did  it  pain  yout"  she  said,  wistfully. 
"  I  did  not  know,!  did  not  think  of  that.  I 
wanted  every  one  to  know  how  good  and 
generous  you  were,  that  was  all ;  though  I 
thought,  too"— here  she  hesitated,  her  pale 
face  flushing  a  little—"  that  you  might  not 
despise  me  so  nuich." 

"  Despise  you !"  ho  said  ;  "  oh,  never,  Na- 
nette, truest  and  best  of  women !" 

"  How  good  you  are !"  she  said,  "  and  how 
generously  you  treated  my  folly!  »"* /J| 
that  is  gone  now.  I  do  not  thuik  I  shall 
live  very  long ;  but  I  hope  it  will  be  to  bear 
of  yon  as  happy  in  the  love  of  some  true, 
gentle  heart." 

They  both  looked  out  into  the  calm  si- 
lence of  the  summer  day,  till  Nauette  agam 

"  I  knew  yon  were  not  dead,"  she  said,  in 
a  low,  hushed  voice.  "  I  knew  that  the  dark 
waters  had  never  shut  you  out  from  those 
that  love  you." 

"  It  was  strange,  was  it  not,"  said  lie, 


166 


SRVEX  YEARS  AND  MAIIl. 


I 

i 


"that  you  alono  ahonld  bavo  bad  tliia  bo- 
licft" 

"  No,  I  do  not  tbiiik  it  was  strango,"  sbo 
nnswerod.  "It  seciiis  uatural  ouougb  to 
mo." 

When  ho  rose  to  take  bia  leave,  Nanette 
said,  ill  tho  same  bushed  voice  that  had  bo- 
corae  habitual  to  her, 

"  I  want  to  bid  you  good-bye  now." 

"  But  I  will  see  you  again,"  bo  said ;  "  oh, 
surely  I  will  see  you  again !" 

"  It  is  better  not,"  sbo  said ;  "  bid  mo  good- 
bye to-day.  Think  of  me  as  of  one  who  lias 
passed  out  of  your  life  forever.  Think  of 
1U6  as  peaceful  and  content,  having  only  a 
little  while  to  wait  before  suffering  will  bo 
at  an  end." 

"But  oh,  Nanette,  why  can  I  not  come 
once  more  I"  he  said,  almost  imploringly. 

"  By  the  memory  of  the  past,  do  not  come," 
she  said.  "I  want  to  make  tho  sacrilice 
now." 

Ibeir  parting  was  solemn,  like  those  part- 
ings beside  flower- wreathed  cofSus,  where 
pale,  still  faces  mock  ns  with  a  semblance 
of  life,  and  yet  have  no  further  hope,  nor  joy, 
uor  interest,  that  blends  with  ours. 


AND  MAin. 

d  bavo  bad  this  be- 
lt was  Btruiige,"  she 
I  natural  enough  to 

te  his  leave,  Nanette 
)d  voice  that  Lad  bo- 

[ood-bye  now." 
igain,"  bo  said ;  "  oh, 
ain !" 

!  said ;  "  bid  mo  good- 
mo  as  of  ouo  wlio  lias 
>  forever.  Think  of 
ntcnt,  having  only  a 
fore  suflfering  will  bo 

rhy  can  I  not  come 
most  imploringly, 
lie  past,  do  not  come," 
J  make  the  sacriiico 

lemn,  like  those  part- 
eathed  coffins,  where 
lis  with  a  somblanco 
furtlier  hope,  nor  joy, 
a  with  ours. 


BBVBN  YEAH8  AND  MAIR. 


167 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  And  look  i\  while  npon  n  picture. 
'Tls  of  ft  liidy  In  licr  caillcit  youth, 
The  very  Inst  of  her  illustrloiiB  race, 
ner  Ze,  bo  lovely,  yet  bo  arch,  Ib  full  of  mirth, 
The  ovcrnowlngs  of  an  innocent  heart. 
Just  as  she  looks  there  In  her  bridal  dress. 
She  is,  nil  geutleneeB,  all  gnyety,  ,„„^„ 

1  or  orankH  the  favorite  theme  of  every  tonpic. 
u     ow  the  day  was  come-the  day  the  hour ; 
NOW,  frownln,;,  BmlUng.  for  the  hundredth  time. 
IJer  indent  lady  mentor  preached  riecoium , 
And  In  the  lustre  of  her  youth  she  gave 
Her  hand,  with  her  heart  in  It,  to  him  ^he  Uwe^^J 

DURING  the  lovely  days  that  followed, 
the  young  people  at  the  cMteau  made  many 
exclusions  to  places  in  the  vic.n.ty.  Somo- 
tiuies  they  strayed  away,  and  spout  long, 
eZis  to  afternoons  iu  quiet  forest  nooks, 
gathering  the  scarlet  loaves  or  late  autumn 
flowers.  The  forests,  no  longer  cold  and 
dark  ill  %eir  green  gloom,  like  the  vault- 
ed halls  of  the  dead,  wore  warm  and  mel- 
low with  a  rich,  deep  glow,  like  mighty  ca- 
thedrals, through  whose  painted  windows 


F 


168 


8KVEX  YKAR3  AND  MAIR. 


Btreanicil  tho  siiu  In  niyrind  colors.  What 
brush  of  painter  or  whot  pon  of  poet  cuii 
catch  tho  goldon  gh)ry  of  iv  forest  scene  in 
tho  antinnii  t  Tho  coh)r8  blend  into  an  iu- 
(lescribiiblo  harmony,  and  tho  f()Uaij;o  Beoms 
toconsunio  itself  in  HllinBthe  human  heart 
with  a  last  deep  senHO  of  tho  bounty  of  nat- 
luc,  and,  like  tho  »>vii>i,  whoso  deuth-song 
in  tho  sweet'-'st,  lends  to  its  wanint;  houvw  a 
ra<Uauco  the  rarest  and  most  enthrailiiiR. 

The  yonng  people  lingered  all  the,  long 
day,  lis  we  have  said,  in  woodland  places, 
where  tho   birds   sung  blilli.ly,  hieing  to 
and  fro  among  the  niauy-tiutod  boughs,  and 
bnilding  th   ir  little    nests  on  tho  sturdy 
arms  of  the  forei^t  nionarclw.     Tho  early 
evenings  were  often  spent  upon  tho  Loire; 
and  as  they  t!    I'lcd  down  the  stream,  H<5- 
Ifene  told  them  many  a  pretty  legend  cou- 
neoted  with  tho  country  round,  and  told  in 
ftwe-stricUeu  voices  by  tlio  peasants,  genera- 
tion after  generation,  besido  their  peat-flres 
in  the  long  winter.     With  her  the  young 
men  watched  tho  stars  come  ont,  night  af- 
ter night,  a  royal  diadem  f.)r  tho  sleeping 
fnvth;  and  with  hi  -  they  truvoUed,  in  fan- 
cy, to  tho  unexplov.  1  countries  of  the  star- 
ry kingdoms.     When  tho  ninon  shone  ont, 
and  silvered  the  dull  stream  down  which 


or 
sii 
P« 

w 
w 


al 
ti 
ii 


S  AND  MAIR. 

iiyriml  colors.  What 
.viiat  jioii  of  poet  coil 
•y  of  IV  forest  scone  in 
ilors  blend  into  mi  in- 
nud  tlio  foUaj?!)  seems 
UiiiK  the  Imiimii  heart 
1)  of  the  bcttiity  of  iiat- 
lin,  wlioso  dentil -song 
to  its  waning  hours  n 
id  most  eiithralliiiK. 

lingered  all  th<^  long 
1,  in  woodland  iilaces, 
iig  hlilhcly,  hieing  to 
Miy-lintisd  boughs,  and 

nests  on  the  sturdy 
iiinnarcbs.  The  early 
spent  upon  the  Loire; 

down  the  stream,  H^- 
jT  n  pretty  legend  con- 
itry  round,  and  told  in 
)y  tiio  peasants,  gonera- 
I,  bosido  their  peat-flres 
With  her  the  young 
ars  come  out,  night  nf- 
iadeiii  f.)r  tho  sleeping 

they  travelled,  in  fan- 

I  countries  of  the  star- 

II  the  moon  shone  out, 
ill  stream  down  which 


SEVEN  YRAB8  AND  MAIR. 


169 


they  drifted,  no  word  was  said,  and  tlio  still- 
noBH  only  broken  by  H6lono  huinniing  some 
Bwcet  strains  she  hiwl  caught  from  rustic 
ballads. 

Dnt  this  peaceful  life  could  not  go  on  for- 
ever. Erie  Jolt  that  ho  must  soon  return  to 
Konhi,  yet  ho  dreaded  to  awaken  from  the 
droam-iiko  sweetness  of  the  present.  One 
day  he  was  pacing  restlessly  up  and  down 
tho  court -yard,  thinking  over  the  matter, 
when  Heleno  appeared  at  the  door,  and,  see- 
ing hiin,  came  smiling  down  tho  steps.  Slio 
H'oppcd  beside  tho  sundial,  and  began  to  pull 
aside  the  weeds  that  were  beginning  to  ob- 
scure it. 

"  Poor,  neglected  old  dial !"  she  said ;  no 
one  ever  takes  any  notice  of  yon.  See,  Mon- 
sieur Erie,  it  is  quito  overgrown  with  these 
parasites." 

He  advanced  to  where  she  stood ;  bnt, 
without  giving  him  time  to  answer,  alio 
wont  on, 

•'  What  a  strange  mission  it  has!" 

"  In  what  way  do  you  mean  t"  asked  Eric. 

"  Why,  it  has  only  to  count  the  sunbeams 
all  lay  long ;  but  then  it  has  to  wait  through 
the  long,  dreary  uight  for  the  sun's  return- 
ing." „ 

"  Its  lot  is  not  so  different  In.in  our  own," 


I 


170 


SEVEN  YEAHS  AND  MAIIl. 


Haid  Eric,  half  laughiiifc,  lialf  HiKliiiig.  "I 
liavo  bctMi  couiitiii)?  Huiibeauis,  aiul  uow  I 
must  cxiKM't  tlio  night." 

"Expect  tlio  iiiglitf"  repented  H616ne, 
looking  ini|iiiriMgly  at  liiin. 

"I  UHMin  tlint  I  niiiwt  Hoon  kavo  Ton- 
raino,"  lio  explained.  "  I  liavo  lingered  too 
long  in  itH  sunbeams." 

"Must  you  really  go  I"  eho  asked,  regret- 
fully. 

"I  cannot  quite  forgot  Foula,"  he  said, 
laughing  a  little, "  though  I  have  been  Sore- 
ly tempted  ho  to  do." 

"Will  you  never,  never  come  back  to 
Frniico  f"  n!io  awked,  wiHtfully. 

"  Do  not  ask  me,"  he-  Haid.  "  If  it  were 
possible,  I  should  remain  hero  forever :  as 
that  is  not  possible,  I  would  return  fron;  tbo 
very  ends  of  the  earth,  if  I  could  hopo — " 

Ho  broke  olf  suddenly,  and  H616ne  looked 
at  him  in  surprise. 

"  You  do  not  see  what  I  moan,"  ho  said, 
"  and  it  is  as  well.  After  all,  it  is  better  for 
mo  to  go  and  forget." 

"Forget  what!"  she  asked,  smiling.  "May 
I  guess  V 

"It  would  not,  bo  very  hard,  I  fear,"  ho 
answered. 

"That  good  Nanette,"  she  said,  miscbiov- 


I 


on 
en 
"t 
an 
Ml 


pc 
nc 
hi 
is 

II 

bi 

St 

m 
tl 

a! 
fe 

C( 
01 

<( 
tt 


am 


AKD  MAIR. 


R,  half  HiKhin((.     "I 

iiubviiius,  iiiul  now  I 
I 

f"  ropofttoil  II615iio, 

him. 

iHt  80011  hovo  Ton- 

"I  have  liiifjorod  too 

f"  sho  aukod,  rogrct- 

got  Foiihi,"  ho  said, 
igh  I  have  boeu  Borc- 

evor  coiiio  back   to 

(tfiilly. 

c  mitl.     "  If  it  were 

liii  hero  forever:  ns 

ouhl  return  froir.  tbo 

if  I  could  hope — " 

y,  aud  II61biio  looked 

at  I  moan,"  ho  said, 
er  all,  it  is  bettor  for 

sked, smiling.  "May 

ory  hard,  I  fear,"  ho 

"  sho  said,  mischiov- 


""^^^^^^^^^j^^^^^m 


BRVEN  YEAnS  AXD  MAIU. 


171 


I 


ouidy,  though  in  hor  hcort  thoro  was  pain 
enough  to  pmiiNli  lier  for  tlio  little  malice — 
"  that  good  Nanette  is  criicl  and  perveiuo, 
and,  in  Baciilicing  horsolf,  HacriliccH  poor 
Monttieur  Eric  too." 

lie  smiled,  in  Hpito  of  himself. 

"A  certain  (IcinoiHellu  makes  very  bad 
guesses,"  ho  saiil;  "and  after  siicli  »  very 
poor  attempt,  I  am  in  doubt  whether  I  ought 
not  to  give  you  the  key  to  the  enigma.  I'cr- 
hop8,inademoi8olle,  yon  would  then  turn  who 
is  inclined  to  bo  cruel  aud  perverse.  Shall 
I  begin t" 

"No,  I  am  content,"  sho  said,  laughing, 
but  the  color  camo  into  hor  face  notwith- 
Btanding. 

"80  you  aro  not  interested  in  the  enig- 
ma t"  bo  said,  somewhat  gravely.  " Alas  for 
tbo  sundial!" 

"  But  tbo  sun  shines  olsowliero  as  brightly 
as  in  Touraino,"  sho  said,  raising  bor  frauk, 
fearless  eyes  to  his  face. 

"And  are  tbo  smiles  of  demoiselles  which 
constitute  iny  sunshino  as  sweet  elsewhere  !" 

"Oh  yes,"  abo  said;  "then  are  sweet  ov- 
cryw  bore." 

"  But  not  for  mo,"  said  Eric,  more  warmly. 
"The  smiles  I  covet  belong  to  Touraine,  to 
an  old  chateau,  and—    ShoU  I  go  on  f " 


*■ 


172 


8EV£N  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


She  sliook  her  bead  and  laughed. 

"  Do  you  not  see  that  I  am  in  earnest  t" 
ho  began,  growing  warmer  and  more  inter- 
ested, as  she  scorned  to  make  light  of  the 
matter.  "  It  may  be  sport  to  yon,  madem- 
oiselle, but  it  is  pain  to  mo.  As  I  have  be- 
gun, I  shall  continue,  until  I  have  convinced 
you,  against  your  will,  that  ray  life  away* 
from  you  would  be  as  aimless  and  dreary 
as  a  dial  placed  where  the  sun  could  never 
reach  it." 

The  color  came;  warm  and  soft,  into  her 
face.  She  said,  keeping  her  eyes  fixed  upou 
the  dial, 

"And  Nanette?" 

"Ab!  why  will  you  ask?"  cried  Eric. 
"  You  know  I  never  loved  her,  nor  even  fan- 
cied I  did.  Still,  I  never  suspected  that  I 
loved  you  till  the  night  I  came  so  near  death. 
Your  face  then  rose  out  of  the  dark  waters 
to  me,  and  I  realized  how  bitter  it  was  to 
part  fx'om  you  forever.  For  the  first  time  I 
knew  what  love  was,  but  I  did  not  dare  to 
hope  that  you  would  leave  your  home  in 
sunny  France  to  cross  the  seas  and  share 
my  home  at  Foula.     I  could  not  risk  it." 

"And  so  you  believed,"  said  H61&ne,  a 
little  hesitatingly,  "that  if  I  really  loved,  I 
should  be  unwilling  to  make  a  sacrifice  for 


Oi 


AND  MAin. 


-'SEVEN  TEARS  AND  MAIR. 


173 


ml  laughed. 
it  I  am  in  earnest!" 
iner  and  more  iuter- 
)  make  light  of  the 
port  to  yon,  madem- 
i  mo.  As  I  have  be- 
itil  I  have  convinced 
that  my  life  away 
aimless  and  dreary 
the  sun  could  never 

m  and  soft,  into  her 
;  her  eyes  fixed  upou 


I  ask?"  cried  Eric, 
ed  her,  nor  even  fan- 
vec  suspected  that  I 
I  came  so  near  death, 
t  of  the  dark  •waters 
jow  bitter  it  was  to 

For  the  first  time  I 
mt  I  did  not  dare  to 
leave  your  home  in 

the  sens  and  share 
joutd  not  risk  it." 
'ed,"  said  H<Slbne,  a 
it  if  I  really  loved,  I 

make  a  sacrifice  for 


love's  sake.    You  had  not  a  high  opinion  of 
me,  Monsieur  Eric." 

"  But  how  could  I  know,  how  could.  I  vent- 
ure to  hope,  that  you  would  regard  mo  with 
favor  I" 

"And  yet  a  demoiselle's  favor  is  always 
uncertain,"  said  H616ne,  shyly.  "  You  did 
not  run  greater  risk  than  any  of  your  sex 
under  such  circumstances.  But  I  am  right ; 
yon  thought  I  was  childish  and  frivolous." 

"  I  know  not  what  I  thought,"  said  Eric, 
desperately.  "  I  only  knew  that  I  feared  to 
lose  a  cherished  hope  in  one  cruel  moment. 
I  have  been  hasty ;  forget  my  folly,  unless — " 

Ho  looked  at  her,  and  her  frank  gaze 
drooped, 

"  Unless  the  dial  might  be  so  blessed  as 
to  remain  in  the  sunshine  forever." 

She  smiled  a  little,  but  began  to  go  up 
the  steps  without  answering.  At  the  top 
she  paused. 

"The  sun  loves  to  bring  gladness,"  she 
said, "and  the  dial  must  remember  that  it 
never  willingly  causes  sadness." 

"  Give  the  poor  dial  one  hope,  then,"  said 
Eric,  advancing  eagerly  to  the  foot  of  the 
steps.  "  Can  a  love,  true,  constant,  and  de- 
voted, ever  hope  for  a  return  V 

"  True  love  need  never  despair,"  said  H6- 


174 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIR. 


l&ne,  shyly,  disappearing  through  the  door, 
blushing  prettily. 

Thus  was  the  wooiug  begun:  it  lasted 
foT  many  days ;  it  had  all  the  fi(!8hne8s,  and 
poetry,  and  brightness  of  "  life's  early  morn- 
ing." Hdlfeno  was  sweet  and  frank,  but  shy 
and  somewhat  uncertain.  Eric  found  much 
difficulty  id  winning  a  confession  of  love 
from  her.  She  had  a  certain  girlish  pride, 
and,  with  all  her  pretty  naivete,  was  not  easi- 
ly won.  But  this  very, reserve  pleased  Eric ; 
her  maidenly  dignity  charmed  him;  each 
day  he  found  some  new  grace  in  her,  and 
a  fresh  impetus  to  his  task  of  winning  the 
proud  little  heart.  When  she  did  yield  it 
to  him,  it  was  graciously  and  sweetly,  as  be- 
came a  high-born  damsel,  the  last  of  a  noble 
line.  She  plighted  her  troth  to  him  in  the 
Haunted  Tower.  It  was  an  exquisite  after- 
noon ;  the  room  was  filled  with  the  shadows 
of  the  creeping  plants,  the  growth  of  centu- 
ries, upon  those  Avails,  within  which  many  a 
bride  had  been  wooed  and  won.  The  trees, 
in  their  beautiful  autumn  garments,  waved 
and  nodded  friendly  greetings  through  the 
loo-ji-holcs  of  the  tower  to  the  youthful  pair. 
HfiKino  was  glad  that  her  faith  should  be 
plighted  where,  according  to  an  old  tradi- 
tion, many  maidens  of  her  race  had  plighted 


th( 
th( 
J 
sei 
pei 
dii 
da 
thi 

gi' 
til 
fc' 
ta 

ise 
tl( 
w 
dc 
er 
to 
tli 
w 
h( 
b( 


ir 
d 


AND  MAIR. 

ig  throngli  tho  door, 

jg  begun  :  it  lasted 
ill  the  fnishuess,  and 
jf  "life's  early  morn- 
it  and  frank,  bnt  shy 
II.  Eric  found  much 
%  confession  of  love 
lertaiu  girlish  pride, 
naivete,  was  not  easi- 
•eserve  pleased  Eric ; 
charmed  liim;  each 
w  grace  in  Lor,  and 
task  of  winning  the 
hen  she  did  yield  it 
y  and  sweetly,  as  he- 
el, tho  Last  of  a  noble 

troth  to  liim  in  the 
IS  an  exquisite  aftev- 
ed  with  the  shadows 
;he  growth  of  centu- 
ir'ithin  which  many  a 
.nd  won.  The  trees, 
[uu  garments,  waved 
eetings  throngh  the 
to  the  yonthful  pair. 

her  faith  shonld  be 
ing  to  an  old  tradi- 
ler  race  had  plighted 


SEVEN  YEARS  AND  MAIH. 


175 


theirs ;  and  tho  legend  ran  that  vows  made 
there  were  never  broken. 

Madame  and  tlie  Douglas  gave  their  con- 
sent most  joyfully,  as  might  have  been  ex- 
pected, and  it  was  arranged  that  the  wed- 
ding should  take  place  one  mouth  from  the 
day  of  betrothal;  for  Erie  began  to  feel 
that  tho  hearts  in  hia  native  island  must  be 
grieved  at  his  long  delay,  and  that  at  their 
time  of  life,  when  hopes  and  pleasures  were 
few,  it  Wits  cruel  to  keep  them  in  expec- 
tation. 

Shortly  after  H<5Ifeno  had  given  her  prom- 
ise. Viscount  Stewart  rode  over  to  the  cas- 
tle one  afternoon.  He  found  H^lene  sitting 
with  madame  in  their  usual  place,  at  a  win- 
dow of  the  morning-room.  After  some  gen- 
eral conversation,  he  contrived,  with  his  cus- 
tomary nonchalance,  to  draw  H^icne  over  to 
the  other  window,  where  he  could  converse 
with  her  more  at  easo.  Madame,  troubling 
herself  no  farther  about  them,  took  np  a 
book,  and  soon  forgot  their  presence. 

"The  Laplander  has  been  acting  quite 
a  romance,"  said  the  visccunt,  snoeringly. 
"  His  affair  with  that  village  girl  placed  him 
in  the  light  of  apreiix  chevalier ;  and  then  his 
drowning — " 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself  to  complete  the 


r' 


176 


SEVEN  YEAKS  AND  MAin. 


list,"  interrupted  H61fene;  "(be  whole  vil- 
lage is  ringing  with  Monsieii'/  Eric's  praise.'- 

"And  donbtIe88,TOa  helle  crisi/ie  swells  the 
chorns,"  said  Stewart,  shriifr^ing  his  shoul- 
ders. "Maw  qu'inporte,  d'Hioiselles  will 
have  heroes  and  exalt  them  Jusqu'aux  deux. 
But,  vwn  aiige,  I  have  not  conn"  hero  to  argue 
about  Lai)landers,  or  other  BoMmienB  from 
the  world's  end." 

H616«o  was  pale  with  anger.  The  vis- 
count, quite  unconscious  of  having  provoked 
her  resentment  to  such  a  degree,  continued, 

"You  know  it  was  always  understood 
that  yon  were  to  be  my  wife;  aud  I  r  wear 
to  you,  helle  attge  de  ma  vie,  that  you  will  have 
a  husband  who  adores  yon." 

"  So  I  trust,"  said  H61feno,  trying  to  speak 
calmly;  "but  it  will  never  be  you." 

"Who,  then?"  eried  he,  quickly,  "unless 
it  be  a  JioMmien,  a  nameless  adventurer, 
whose  love  you  share  with  a  peasant-girl." 

"  Cousin  Henri,"  said  Hdlfeue,  drawing  her 
childish  figure  to  its  full  height,  the  Doug- 
las blood  Hushing  her  cheeks,  "I  will  not 
say  anything  of  the  mmiiest  grosaieretd  of 
your  remark ;  but,  in  future,  when  you  wish 
to  express  yourself  so  to  a  lady,  take  care 
to  let  the  subject  of  yonr  remarks  be  other 
than  her  betrothed  husband." 


us  AND  MAIB. 

Ifeno ;  "  <  lie  whole  vil- 
Monsierv  Eric's  praise.'' 
a  lelle  ccisine  swells  the 
't,  sbni'iijing  bis  shonl- 
omie,  il-moiseUes  will 
,lt  tliem  Jiisqu'aux  deux. 
not  conii>  liere  to  argue 
r  other  Uohiiniena  from 

■with  anger.  The  vis- 
ions of  having  provoked 
ch  a  degree,  continued, 
ras  always  understood 
»  my  wife;  and  1 1  wear 
i«  vie,  that  you  will  have 
es  you." 

Hdl&no,  trying  to  speak 
I  never  be  you." 
ied  he,  quickly,  "  unless 
I  nameless  adventurer, 
e  with  a  peasant-girl." 
aid  Hdlfeue,  drawing  her 
8  lull  height,  the  Dong- 
lier  cheeks,  "  I  will  not 
5  manifest  <;ro88iei'eM  of 
u  future,  when  you  wish 
so  to  a  lady,  take  care 
F  yonr  remarks  be  other 
husband." 


SEVEN  YEAUS  Ai.D  MAIR. 


177 


He  stood  like  one  iu  a  trance.  Disap- 
poiutmont,  rage,  jealousy,  were  all  at  work 
•within  him ;  yet  as  H616no  swept  haughti- 
ly past  him,  ho  lield  ont  his  hands  to  her 
in  mute  appeal  for  forgiveness.  That  af- 
ternoon, before  ho  hift  the  chiltoau,  he  found 
courage  to  speak  to  her  again. 

"  I  have  behaved  like  a  bete,"  he  said,  hum- 
bly ;  "  but  oh,  ma  mignonne,  it  was  jealousy ! 
I  always  knew  how  it  would  bo,  and  that  I, 
in  spite  of  my  long,  devoted  love,  would  be 
thrown  aside  for  a  stranger.  Forgive  me, 
though,  now,  and  1  will  never  offend  again." 

"Nor  call  Monsieur  Eric  a  Laplander?" 
she  said,  smiling  a  gracious  forgiveness,  aud 
holding  out  both  ]<or  hands  to  him. 

"Ah,  cousin,"  ho  said,  h.alf  sadly,  "this 
Monsieur  Eric  is  a  happy  man  to  possess 
that  generous  little  heart,  always  ready  to 
forgive.  But  those  briglit  eyes  have  a  great 
deal  to  answer  for;  and  I,  their  \ictim, 
must  be,  Mlaa  !  only  a  cousin." 

"And  a  good  friend,  I  hope,"  she  said, 
"  even  when  I  am  gone  far  over  the  sea.'' 

The  time  before  the  wedding  passed  very 
rapidly.  II61fene  flitted  about  as  happy  and 
joyous  as  over,  but  was  seen  much  more 
frequently  entering  the  little  chapel,  where 
she  spent  mauy  a  half-hour  in  prayer  and 
12 


x■„V:'^."^V^ 


i 


178 


SEVEN  YEAE8  AND  MAIR. 


meditation.  Madame  often  looked  npon  hnr 
fondly,  sighing  to  think  how  short  a  time 
her  blithe  presence  would  brighten  the  dark 
ancestral  halls,  and  lend  its  fresh  youth  to 
obeer  the  stately  old  chdteau.  She  looked 
forward  sadly  to  a  time  when  visitors  would 
be  shown  the  last  portrait  in  the  picture- 
gallery,  and  told  that  it  represented  tho 
daughter  of  tho  bouse,  who  had  married  and 
gone  over  tho  sea  to  an  ocean-bound  island ; 
and  she  could  fancy  how  the  stranger,  gaz- 
ing upon  it,  would  envy  the  home  to  which 
so  gracious  a  presence  would  bo  added, 
and  try  to  imagine  tho  high-born  damsel  a 
youthful  bride,  rejoicing  her  husband's  heart 
in  a  Northern  home,  far  from  the  sunny 
Loire. 

The  wedding-day  came  at  last — a  day  in 
the  late  autumn,  when  the  earth  was  array- 
ed in  its  fairest  robes  to  celebrate  its  espou- 
sals with  death.  There  was  a  more  touch- 
ing loveliness  in  the  landscape  than  the  full 
glory  of  the  midsummer.  The  village  bells 
rang  out  in  joy ;  the  children  strewed  their 
garlands,  woven  of  the  dying  year's  half- 
faded  flowers,  under  the  feet  of  tho  bride- 
groom and  tho  bride.  Never  had  the  Doug- 
las halls  witnessed  a  more  joyous  festivity. 
The  chapel  doors  were  thrown  wide,  iucense 


flo 
th 
wi 
no 
en 
ou 

sti 
br 
ca 
se 
in 

Hi 


he 
to 

w 

sa 

m 
& 

tl 
tc 


3S  AND  MAIR. 

I  often  looked  npon  hev 
link  how  Bbort  a  time 
ould  brighten  the  dark 
lend  its  fresh  youth  to 
chateau.  She  looked 
no  when  visitors  would 
ortrait  in  the  picture- 
at  it  represented  the 
3,  who  had  umrried  and 
Ein  ocean-bound  island ; 
how  tho  stranger,  gaz- 
ivy  the  homo  to  which 
mce  would  bo  added, 
ho  high-born  damsel  a 
ing  her  husband's  heart 
i,  far  from  the  sunny 

came  at  last — a  day  in 
sn  the  earth  was  array- 
i  to  celebrate  its  espou- 
lere  was  a  more  touch- 
landscape  than  the  full 
mer.    Tho  village  bells 

children  strewed  their 
the  dying  years  half- 

the  feet  of  the  bride- 
.  Never  had  the  Doug- 
i  more  joyous  festivity, 
re  thrown  wide,  incense 


SEVEX  YE  .  ;S  AND  MAIR. 


179 


floated  ont  to  tho  ./lis  and  corridors  and 
through  the  wido-(i;>i  ii  lattices,  to  mingle 
with  tho  fragrant  ai  •  of  the  October  after- 
noon. Tho  music  ">unded  sweet  and  sol- 
ema ;  and  the  bell  <  the  great  tower  pealed 
out  its  deep-toned    'olody. 

Nanette  was  pr(.  -nfc  at  tho  bridal.  She 
still  looked  wan  au(i  wasted;  her  hair  was 
brushed  back  softly  under  her  peasant's 
cap;  her  dress  wjs  plain  and  quiet;  she 
seemed  content,  and  even  happy.  She  was 
in  the  hall  when  i  ho  bride  was  departing. 
H61fene  stopped  and  smiled  upon  her. 

"  May  I  kiss  you,  Nanette  V  she  said. 

As  she  spoke,  she  stooped  and  embraced 
her;  then  Nanette  said, 

"May  the  good  <■. '  give  you  every  joy, 
to  you  and  yonrs !" 

Tears  were  fallin7  from  H616ne'8  eyes 
when  she  turned  away.  To  Eric,  Nanette 
said,  with  a  smile, 

"  Why  does  the  luily  weep  1  It  makes 
me  happy  to  see  her  y  lur  bride.  She  will 
go  with  you  to  di&taut  j-'oula." 

She  had  caught  the  name,  and  long  after 
tho  carriage  had  driven  away  she  repeated 
to  herself, 

"  Far  over  the  sea,  to  distant  Foula." 

Yes,  thither  they  had  gone  to  that  dreamy 


m 


180 


Seven  years  akd  maih. 


and  mystical  land  by  tbo  sea,  where  its  mys- 
tery iHid  its  loveliness  are  for  evermore  a  joy 
and  a  delight  to  tl'.a  earth ;  where  the  am- 
bient air  is  fnll  of  beauty  and  witchery; 
where  the  twilights  and  dawns  are  of  rare, 
unearthly  loveliness,  and  the  green  earth 
lies  like  one  in  an  enchanted  sleep,  dreaming 
of  sea-caves,  and  jewelled  mines,  and  costly 
argosies. 

One  bcantifid,  clear  evening  in  the  Indian 
summer  tliey  arrived  at  Fonla.  The  Udal- 
ler's  homo  still  stood,  lus  of  old,  a  beacon  of 
warmth  and  comfort  to  the  tired  travellers. 
Around  the  door  had  collected  a  number  of 
villagers  to  greet  their  young  mastir.  Many 
of  them  ho  had  left  as  children,  now  growu 
to  manhood  ;  others  had  become  l)owod  aud 
hoary  since  ho  was  there ;  new  tombstones, 
too,  had  been  put  up  in  the  little  church- 
yard, bearing  tlio  names  of  some  who  would 
have  been  among  the  first  to  welcome  him 
home.  The  throng  outside  the  door  waited 
eagerly  for  his  coming,  and,  forgetting  the 
decket  of  years,  expected  to  see  liim  still  a 
handsome  youth,  proud,  self-willed,  and  dar- 
ing— the  same  who  had  ruled  them  with  au 
impetuous  8way,half  of  love  aud  half  of  fear. 
They  remembered  his  old  air  of  command, 
his  fearlessness,  his  daring,  his  outbursts  jf 


pasi 
et,s 
ty-f 
lad: 
thei 
call 
t 
stoc 
yen 

1 

wh( 

mol 

li 

in  1 
for 
con 
the 

1 
tot 
cor 
]ik( 
bro 
kn( 
lier 
snr 

I 
to 


AND  MAin. 

0  8pa,  where  its  mys- 
ro  for  ovennore  a  joy 
irtli;  where  the  ain- 
auty  aud  witchery; 
il  dawns  are  of  rare, 
ml  the  green  earth 
uted  sleep,  dreaming 
ed  miuos,  and  costly 

svcning  in  the  Indian 
i  Foula.  The  Udal- 
s  of  old,  a  beacon  of 
>  the  tired  travellers. 
^Hooted  a  number  of 
roiing  master.  Many 
children,  now  growu 
d  become  bowed  and 
re;  new  tombstones, 
iu  the  little  church- 
la  of  some  who  would 
first  to  welcome  him 
tside  the  door  waited 
;,  and,  forgetting  the 
,od  to  see  liim  still  a 
,  self-willed,  and  dar- 
:l  ruled  them  with  an 
f  love  and  half  of  fear, 
old  air  of  command, 
ring,  his  outbursts  of 


SEVEN  TEAItS  AND  MAIH. 


181 


passion.  When  the  carriage  stopped,  n  qui- 
et, self-contained,  still  handsome  man  of  thir- 
ty-five stepped  out,  who  first  assisted  a  veiled 
lady  tp  alight;  t hen, raising  liis  hat, returned 
their  noisy  greeting,  liindly,  courteously,  but 
calmly. 

Upon  the  threshold  of  the  Udallor's  homo 
stood  the  parents,  both  silver-haired  and 
venerable.  To  a  lady,  tall,  erect,  and  state- 
ly, Eric  spoke : 

"  Mother,  this  is  Hdlfeno." 

Then  H<5l6ne  was  folded  to  her  heorfc.  But 
when  she  had  held  her  there  a  moment,  the 
mother  turned  to  Eric. 

"  Sou  of  my  heart,"  she  said,  clasping  him 
in  her  arms,  "here  there  is  warm  welcome 
for  you  and  for  the  bride  of  your  love.  Wel- 
come, welcome,  to  the  home  of  your  forefa- 
thers!" 

The  Udaller,  on  whom  age  was  beginning 
to  tell,  received  them  with  the  most  eft'usivo 
cordiality.  H616ne  wiis  charmed.  She  felt 
like  one  in  a  dream  when  seated  by  the 
broad  hearth  she  had  learned  from  Erie  to 
know  and  love.  She  felt  as  if  life  could  give 
her  nothing  more  than  this  liome  iu  Foula, 
surrounded  by  hearts  she  loved. 

And  60  the  heir  of  the  Udallers  retnrned 
to  the  home  of  his  ancestors,  on  the  ;'ocky 


183 


8KVEN  YUAIIS  AND  MAIB. 


i.slo  far  off  in  tin  midHt  of  tlio  ocean,  wlitiro 
a  now  lift!  began  lor  him— a  life  of  joy  nn<l 
content.  Many  an  afternoon  did  the  yomij,' 
lovers  wander  down  among  the  rocks,  close 
by  the  wonderful  sea,  the  fairy-lnnd  of  mys- 
teries, into  which  Hdlfeno  was  \"->n<A  ini»i'»- 
tod;  and  many  a  winter  evening  did  thoy 
1)888  beside  the  fireside,  of  which  m  other 
diivs  Eric  bad  told  her.  ,     -„ 

Many  months  i.ft<>r,  they  heard  of  Na- 
nette's death.  She  had  died  poi.  efuUy  one 
summer  afternoon,  with  the  words  of  an  old 
hymn  upon  her  lips.  All  day  long  hiloro  her 
death  she  had  been  heard  to  murmur  bless- 
ings on  hearts  she  loved  in  distant  Foul.i. 

Time  passed  on,  and  Douglas  never  mar- 
ried He  lived  at  the  old  chfttean  with  ma- 
dame,  who  was  passing  p-iicefnlly  into  the 
valo  of  years.  At  evening,  Douglas  was  al- 
ways seen  to  enter  the  church-yard.  A  qui- 
et tiowir-grown  grave  lay  near  the  sunniest 
wall,  and  there  ho  spent  the  twilight  hour. 
Ho  made  himself  much  beloved  by  the  peo- 
ple of  the  place  for  his  many  acts  of  unseUmh 
benevolence;  but  ho  seldom  smiled, though 
tho  years  grew  apace,  and  the  children  that 
liad  woven  his  sister's  bridal  garlands  were 
wen  and  women,  and  tho  silver  began  to 
show  in  his  dark  hair. 


O 

grov 

inno 

and 

won 

tiioj 

gra' 

Ton 

kee' 

villi 

for 

goe 

and 

l-'oi 

lull 

tioi 

yea 

Nai 

pac 

roE 

aw 

iut 

we 

SOI 

th( 
go 

ch 

86) 


iNt)  MAIB> 

of  tlio  ocean,  wlinm 
I— a  life  of  joy  mid 
noon  did  tlio  yonii}; 
DiiK  tlio  rocks,  doso 
0  fairy-laiul  of  inys- 

0  wftH  l.iiiiK  inltia- 
r  cveiiiiiK  did  they 
,  of  wbicli  iu  otliei- 

they  heard  of  Na- 
diell  pen  efully  one 
tho  words  of  an  old 

1  day  long  heforo  her 
rd  to  murmur  lilesa- 
,  ill  distant  Foul.'i. 
Douglas  never  niar- 
Id  chilteau  with  ma- 
[  p"ricefully  into  the 
ing,  Uoiinhia  was  al- 
jhurch-yard.  A  qui- 
lay  near  the  sunniest 
It  tho  twilight  hour. 

beloved  by  the  peo- 
nanyactsofunsolflsh 
ildoni  smiled,  though 
ind  tho  children  that 
bridal  garlands  were 

tho  Hilver  began  to 


BEVEX   VEAU8  ANI>  MAin. 


183 


Uuco  ho  wout  to  Foulft,  and  seciued  to 
grow   yofing   again,  wandering    with    Kno 
MUiong  th.^  old  He,eneK,  full  of  tlio  fresliiieBS 
iiiid  KweotneHH  of  life's  early  morning.    They 
would  have  persn-aded  him  to  roniain;  but 
tli(\V  saw  that  his  h.  urt  was  buried  in  a 
lm;v"vc,  now  old  and  nu/ss-covercd,  in  far-off 
Touraino,  and  that  ho  would  fain  be  buck, 
keeping  his  lonely  post,  and  waiting  till  tlio 
village  sexton  should  one  day  niiiki-  a  grave 
for  him  beside  Nanette,  near  where  tho  Loire 
goes  winding  on  its  solemn,  ,  casoless  way, 
imd  far  from  the  once -loved  sea  at  distant 
1-oiila.    In  tho  picture-gallery  of  tbo  chAtenn 
bung  another  portrait,  hearing  tl."  lusciu.- 
tion,"  Robert,  Viscount  Uouglas,"  to  which, 
years  afterward,  was  added      Last  of  the 
Name."     Strangers'  eyes  gr.       dim  when, 
passing  before  it,  tbey  heard      e  tale  ot  a 
romantic  love,  long   after  lie    i,.u\  passed 
away  to  rest,  an.l  the  old  chfttenn  had  lullen 
into  other  hands.     Admiring  giiiices,  too, 
were  cast  upon  the  portrait  of  a  Kin,  win- 
some, and  joyous,  and  bright,  but  of  whom 
tho  family  records  said  simply, "  Married  and 
gone  beyond  the  seas." 

And  thus  did  tho  years  fly  by;  and  the 
chateau  by  tho  Loire  became  lonely  and  de- 
serted, the  pictures  ia  tho  gaUery  wore  cov- 


-w  I  iiiiijfmiii 


184 


BKVKX  YKAUa  AND  MAIH. 


cred  with  <lii8t,  tlm  tower  l-PRnn  to  show 
signs  of  n  spciHly  decay,  and  all  but  a  smnll 
portion  of  tlm  Iiohho  fell  into  dimmo.  Hut 
far  away,  in  a  luippy,  blithesonio  home,  lived 
and  died  tlio  limt  of  a  grand  old  lace.win- 
ning  the  lovo  of  many  a  heart  beside  the  sea 
at  Foula. 


I'  t 


ND  MiUR. 

er  I'PRan  to  sliow 
in<I  all  but  a  HtiuiU 
I  into  (liHiiHc.  Hut 
hoHoinolionio,  lived 
rand  old  raco,  win- 
lieai't  bosido  the  sea 


!D. 


^,amm.''mi*Mimm:^sm!r'<!>mii»^....>i^i!' 


-  ^(i^^;5i?^»»ft>«"«J*«'"'* 


